


A Song of Wolves and Dragons

by princesssorceress



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Jon Targaryen - Freeform, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesssorceress/pseuds/princesssorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is betrayed by his own Brothers of the Nights Watch and awakes from death to find Lyanna Stark in the Godswood of Winterfell. When he returns born amidst salt and smoke he knows his true destiny lies across the narrow sea and that the Iron Throne is his to take and only the others can stop him. Cold winds and snow are upon the seven kingdoms. He rises a Targaryen with the Stark words on his lips. Winter is coming.<br/>(A Jon/ Daenerys Fic as well as an R plus L equals J fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all this is my first GoT fic! Be gentle as I am still getting the lingo and setting down as it is very different from what I’ve written before! This will be starting off after Jon gets stabbed by his brothers of the nights watch and will be a Jon/Daenerys fic as well as an R+L=J fic.  
> Don’t forget to review!  
> Much love,  
> Rin xoxo

#  A Song of Wolves and Dragons 

###  The Promised Prince 

Cold is all Jon Snow felt when his eyes fluttered open. White branches with autumn leaves swayed over head in the harsh, biting wind. _Winter is coming_ he thought to himself. Pain stabbed at his entire abdomen, but when he sat up to inspect himself he found no injuries. He took in his surroundings as he stood up wincing at the phantom pains. To his right stood tall, stone walls with high battlements covered in snow. The sigil of House Stark flew above the walls, a dire wolf on a field of gray.

“Winterfell.” He breathed to himself.

“Yes my sweetling. You’re home.” A soft womanly voice called from behind him.

A woman of eight and ten sat on a rock in front of the weirwood, a tree with a face carved into it many centuries ago when the children of the forest still called this their land. Her hair was dark and she had a likeness to Arya, his sister of eleven years, though this woman was older. Her face was slimmer, her body taller and curvier and she had something gracing her face that Arya seldom had, a smile.

Something in the back of his mind tugged at a memory, a dark damp stony hall lined with statues of Kings of the first men, the Lords of Winterfell, and only one woman. His Father’s Sister Lyanna Stark. This woman in front of him seemed to look exactly as the statue he had gazed at once or twice in his boyhood at Winterfell. But she could not be her because his Aunt had died long ago in the Rebellion in the Tower of Joy in Dorne.

“Come sit with me my Jon.” She beckoned him over snapping him out of his calculations and doubts.

He trudged through the deep snow to sit next to her. After a few moments of silence he looked up at her seeing her wild grey eyes for the first time. _“Lyanna… that girl was a she-wolf with grey eyes that could damn near make an armored knight cower in fear.”_ Jon heard his father say in a time long ago, in a memory almost forgotten.

“You’re Lyanna Stark, my father’s sister. Aren’t you?” Jon asked though not accusingly.

She nodded her confirmation. “But… you’re dead.” Jon blurted before flushing. He may have been a Bastard but he still had learned his courtesies and he was sure that telling a dead person that they were dead was not the most polite thing to say. Especially to a dead Highborn Lady.

But she just laughed “Indeed love I am.”

Jon paled “Am I…I’m dead too aren’t I?” He whispered his hand ghosting over his invisible wounds as the memory of what felt like a thousand swords plunging into his body. The swirl of black cloaked figures, the sting of the bitter cold snow against his dying flesh and the words “For the nights watch” being murmured over his body.

“Not quite yet my prince. You’re time has not yet come.” She murmured

“Then how am I here with you? How did I survive…” He trailed off wanting to say ‘how did I survive my Brothers stabbing me relentlessly’ but the taste of betrayal tied his tongue and made his heart clench.

“Its not how you survived but how you’ll come back. Born amidst salt and smoke, or rather reborn at least.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ah so you do in fact know nothing Jon Targaryen.” She laughed to herself as his face contorted in even more confusion.

She couldn’t deny the fact that her son had grown up to be quite a handsome lad. His hair as black as hers and grey eyes like Ned’s. Rhaegar seemed to have left none of his Targaryen qualities in his son save for his strong will and thick skull. Though she couldn’t deny how she preferred it that way. It had been much easier to pass off Jon as Ned’s when the boy looked everything of the North.

”Lya- My Lady you seem to have confused me. I am Jon Snow, nothing more than Ned Stark’s bastard.” He said solemnly.

“You are no bastard Jon just as you are no son of Ned Stark.”

His face turned red at that “You know nothing. I may be a lowborn bastard with no true name but Eddard Stark’s blood runs through these veins. The blood of the north is inside me just as it was in you.”

“I never said that the blood of the wolf didn’t course through your veins only that my Lord Brother is not your father. I would know this Jon Targaryen because I birthed you into this world in the Tower of Joy almost eighteen years ago.”

His face showed disbelief as well as shock and some more confusion. “Then my father… My father was Rhaegar and I was born a dragon and wolfs Bastard and I was conceived out of rape. How in seven hells does that make anything better?” He cried out.

“You my son, blood of my blood are no bastard. Your Father took me to wed the night before he left for the Trident. As for your conceiving it was not my choice at the time, but if things would’ve been different I never would have had you my Dragonwolf.” She smiled sweetly at Jon cupping his face in her hand.

“While at the end I despised your Father and the madness that drove him a part of me always loved him the same as I did the first night we met at the Tourney of Harrenhal. He was every bit a Targaryen prince as he sang to me and I wept. When he had crowned me Queen of love and beauty after he had won the tournament I felt something I had never felt before and that night he took my maidenhead.”

“We conspired through secret notes over the next few months. He told grand tales of sweeping me away and making me his queen and at first I was enthralled with the idea. A she-wolf warrior like me feeling giddy over a prince seemed silly to me but I was enthralled with Rhaegar. For some nights I used to lay there and dream of him coming in the dead of night and sweeping me away from my Lord Father and my oaf of a betrothed Robert.”

“So you loved each other the whole time? He never raped or abused you?” Jon asked quietly.

“Oh my dragonwolf I wish I could tell you that.” She sighed “Over the next few weeks his letters started coming less and less and when they did they only spoke of how he wanted me how he needed me to bear him true sons because Elia his queen had been less than faithful and his two children were bastards. His own actions of disloyalty and a madness inside him that threatened to outweigh his father’s lead him to believe that sweet Elia had wronged him when everyone in the seven kingdoms could see Rhaeneys and Aegon, both with their locks of silver and violet eyes, were his blood.”

“He became savage with his letters on how he planned to take me away and lock me up until he forced an heir into my womb. I was frightened but took his threats with a grain of salt and three nights later he came to me in my bed and took me away never to see my family again.” She sighed heavily wiping a stray tear away.

“I’m so sorry Lya- Mother.” Jon spoke softly “But I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this.”

“My Dragonwolf didn’t you hear me earlier you are the prince that was promised. The Azor Ahai prophesized to be born a true Targaryen. You are mine and Rhaegar’s son, the heir he forced into my womb and the king I brought into this world with love and blood. You Jon Targaryen are the one true king of Westeros the king of the Andals and the First men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.” She pushed the black strands of hair back from his eyes and smiled with tears in her eyes. Her son was a man and a true born King and she would miss it all just as she had the first seventeen years of his life.

“I’m no King. I’m a brother of the nights watch. I do not partake in politics I wear no crowns and win no glory. Mother I die at my post not on the Iron Throne or on the battlefield trying to take it.”

“My dear you are released from your vow at the point of your death and now you have died and will be reborn amidst salt and smoke. Those traitors killed a boy. Now let the man be born Jon Targaryen. Rise my Dragonwolf your destiny waits across the narrow sea in the city of Mereen.”

Jon’s mother’s voice seemed to get farther away with every word. The godswood started to sway and turn until the whole world seemed to be spinning. Lyanna Stark smiled at her son sadly.

“It’s time for you to go my love.” She said embracing him for the first and last time. Jon clung to her motherly embrace, so foreign and never to be felt be him again.

“Wait!” He pleaded “I have so much more to ask! I don’t want you to leave yet! I just found you.” He said in desperation tears falling against his cheeks.

“We’ll meet again my Dragonwolf when your time is done I will see you and embrace you once more. Now go my prince go take what is yours with Fire and Blood and remember Jon Targaryen though the fire of the dragon warms your veins nothing can stop the cold that is crawling across the kingdoms. The iron throne is yours but beyond the wall winter is coming Jon Targaryen and once it comes there will be no throne to keep.” Her words fell away from him.

His mother was disappearing again before he had a chance to know her. He was falling into nothing. And as he moved from one realm to the next he felt a warmth akin to sleeping next to a warm fire, he smelt the thick bitter smell of a burning pyre and he heard a powerful voice of a woman calling to the gods and all the men around her “Behold the new Azor Ahai! The Prince that was promised and lightbringer his sword of flames!”

And at those words Jon’s eyes flew open and he gazed up to see he was lying in a bed of flames, resurrecting amidst salt and smoke.


	2. Rise of the Dragonwolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This is the second chapter of asowad and I hope you all like it. its mostly a filler chapter showing how Melisandre brings Jon back and knows he is the Azor Ahai. Its a short chapter but the third one is already written and is longer than this. Enjoy!  
> Much Love,   
> Rin

#  A Song of Wolves and Dragons 

### Rise of the Dragonwolf

Melisandre sat in her chambers standing close to a standing metal fire pit. Though her small room was cold with the brutal weather of Castle Black, where she had fled after her Azor Ahai imposter Stannis Baratheon fell into ruin, she didn’t stand in front of the flame for warmth only for the slight hope of seeing her true promised prince. She knew Stannis’s loss of the war was her own doing. She had fed him stories of him being the Azor Ahai when all R’hllor showed her was snow.

She prayed over and over to her God of Light “Show me a glimpse of the Azor Ahai my god. Show me and I shall do anything to be in his service and yours for all my days” She had been saying the same words or ones to the similar affect for hours now.

Her red eyes looked weary and her normally ladylike appearance was disheveled by the long ride from Stannis’s camp to the Wall. After another hour of not glimpsing anything in the flames she looked away to see it was past supper time and most of the Nights Watch had apparently taken themselves to bed.

_Maybe my God has left me just as my parents did and just as I did to Stannis. Maybe this is my punishment._ she thought bitterly to herself. She turned to put the standing fire pit out but as she went to smother the flames they grew bigger and brighter than she had ever witnessed before.

Rather than searching in the tendrils of flames for answers her hands shot out on their own accord and took the flames into her hands. Her eyes glowed with her God and she was taken into a vision like no other she’s had before.

She saw what looked like a young dragon and wolf lying together in bed. Then just as quickly as she’d taken in the scene it changed to a young girl with dark hair and gray eyes screaming and crying as she gave birth alone in the top of a small tower. She saw a young boy of four and ten running with a white wolf pup in his arms and a young silver haired girl across the sea with a baby dragon at her breast.

In the blink of an eye the image changed again to the young boy changing into a wolf and howling unlike any wolf before. She heard the voice in his wails “I am the Dragonwolf and I will take what is mine with Fire and Blood.”

It changed again and again showing her the silver haired mother of dragons she’d heard so much about and the Walls own bastard of Winterfell Jon Snow. Then suddenly it stopped. She saw Jon Snow circled by his own brothers. She saw him being stabbed and she heard “For the Nights Watch” several times as she had before.

Once again it changed and she saw herself lighting a pyre with Jon Snow’s lifeless body. She heard her speaking the words Lord Thoros had used to bring back Beric those six times he had passed on. She saw the fire rising, burning away all the wood and straw that had been placed to make the pyre. She watched until the flames had died down to nothing but whispers and watched herself place a kiss upon Jon Snow’s lips.

“Behold the new Azor Ahai! The prince that was promised and Lightbringer his sword of flames!” She heard herself cry out and then she was thrown from the vision.

Sweat dampened her body and made her hair stick to the nape of her neck and her dress cling to her skin. The chill of her bed chambers did nothing to cool her. She was gasping and trying to process what her God had just shown her. Jon Snow a nameless bastard the Azor Ahai? No it could not be. Sure he was honorable and loyal and a fine warrior but he was no promised prince not with half his blood unknown and his lowborn status surely not.

But her God had never lied to her before and she followed only his guidance and wisdom. Who was she, a mere slave from Essos, to question the one true God? She clambered to the door determined to find her Azor Ahai before his brothers could get to him. She exited the tower in which she slept to the open, snowy courtyard of Castle Black. In a distant corner of the grounds, a circle of twenty to thirty Brothers stood in a circle around an unknown object.

Melisandre’s heart lurched. They started to disperse and she pushed past all of the men fleeing the scene of the crime. She pushed until she came to the center and there he was, her poor promised prince face down in the snow in a pool of his own blood. The light had since faded from his eyes and she held him close shaking with tearless sobs.

She knew what she had to do and the longer she waited, the less likely he was to be the same. She called Ser Davos over from a shadowed corner where he was lurking, watching the spectacle.

“Build a pyre, Ser Davos. Nothing extravagant, just enough to burn away the boy. ” And big enough for the man to be born she thought to herself. “And bring me his sword do it quickly, we don’t have much time.”

He gave her a look as if to say ‘I don’t serve you.’ but she gave him a menacing glare with her red eyes and he looked at Jon covered in his own blood and nodded before going off to find what was needed. He found an old wooden table of no use and big logs and enough hay to lay down twenty beds. He heaved Jon’s dead weight onto the small table in the wee hours of the morning the sun just beginning to light up the first bricks of the wall. They struck longclaw down in the table at Jon’s feet She lit the fire quickly and watched the wood and hay slowly burn away. As the structure of it all fell away she began to say the ancient words as she circled Jon Snow’s pyre. Brothers of the Nights Watch gathered around to listen to what the Red Lady was saying with little interest.

“Lord cast your light upon this man! Your servant! Bring him back from death and darkness! His flame has been extinguished! Restore it!” She cried to the heavens and the flames spreading her arms out from her sides as if embracing some unseen force. She then leaned through the flames not caring about the heat or her dress burning away and bestowed a kiss of life on Jon Snows lips.

“Behold the new Azor Ahai! The Prince that was promised and Lightbringer his sword of flames!” With a gasping breath and the howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance Jon Snow died and Jon Targaryen rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so quick second chapter to show how Jon was brought back and how Lady Melissandre knew to bring him back. The next chapter will be all about Jon dealing with being brought back to life and making plans to follow his destiny and his mother’s words across the narrow sea. Don’t forget to review!   
> Much love,  
> Rin xoxo


	3. The King's Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! This chapter is longer than the first and the second and I'm pleased with how it came out and I hope you guys are too. I'd like to thank you for all the really nice comments and feedback! I never expected to get such a positive response but I'm glad you guys like it! Anyways on to the chapter!

# A Song of Wolves and Dragons

### The Kings Justice

Jon choked on smoke as he sat up amongst the burning ashes of his own funeral pyre. The fire looked to have burned big and bright before extinguishing yet he was unharmed. Longclaw was at his feet stabbed into the snow crudely yet still bathing in flames.

 _“Take it my love; take your Lightbringer and never let it go.”_ He heard his Lady Mother Lyanna whisper as if she were right there at his ear.

Jon got to his feet slowly afraid if he started to move he would feel the pain of burns on his body. But it was just as he had thought upon waking. He was perfectly fine with only a few already healed wounds to show what betrayal had taken place the night before. It seemed like a lifetime ago now as if he were thinking back on the memory with new eyes, watching someone else get stabbed to death.

Once he found his footing he noticed the woman who had been crying out upon his arrival. It was the Lady Melisandre, King Stannis’s Red Priestess who had warned him of last night’s events far before they ever happened. She gazed into his gray eyes with wonder and admiration.

“My King the God of light has brought you back to us.” She murmured serenely. “Go and take your sword my Azor Ahai.”

He stood uncertain for a moment. Why had this woman who had before seemed utterly convinced that Stannis Baratheon was the one true king, brought him back and proclaimed him her king? He pushed his questions aside remembering his mother’s whispered words from a few moments ago. He strode the few steps to his still flaming sword and drew it from the earth. The fire did not burn his hand as it had when he last drew a sword from flames in the Lord Commander’s chambers.

As Jon strode with purpose towards The Red Lady, his flaming sword in hand, the brothers of the Nights Watch murmured to each other in awe, shock and in some voices, the ones of the traitors, anger. The flames seemed to grown in Jon’s presence and as he struck the sword into the damp snow at Melisandre’s feet he heard an inhuman cry from leagues away inside his head.

 _“The dragons are singing for their father my love; can you hear them?”_ he heard his mother’s voice.

Jon was convinced he was going mad. Seeing and hearing his dead mother, being burned alive and escaping the pyre unharmed, being dead one night and alive when the sun had risen. These were things of tales in old books. _“So were the others until four years ago.”_ A voice argued at the back of his head.

“She’s a damn maegi! This is blood magic!” One of the brothers called out.

Mutters of agreement broke out amongst the brotherhood. Alliser Thorne had a look of rage on his face, no longer looking as smug as he had when he had stabbed Jon. The fire in Jon’s veins stirred and fumed. He’d never heard the phrase from anyone before but all he could think was that Thorne had woken the Dragonwolf.

Jon’s face darkened and Lady Melisandre noticed immediately and followed his gaze. “My King we shall burn the traitors at your command.”

“Aye the traitors will be dealt with but not by fire.”

“My King, my Azor Ahai forgive me but death by fire is the cleanest death.” She spoke softly.

“That may be so but I don’t wish to hear these men scream their bloody heads off. They may be traitors but they are still brothers and they deserve a quick death.” Jon had a no nonsense tone and even The Red Lady knew it was not smart to push the subject.

“Ser Davos bring The King a block for the traitors.” Melisandre called to the knight.

At her words, the accused started growling profanities and cursing her and her gods. The few men that had stabbed Jon pushed to get towards her but before they could Jon spoke. “The ones accused, you were my brothers under my command and protection and you came and took my life from me because you didn’t like the choices I made. They were not your choices to make nor yours to fix. Instead of being true brothers and honorable men you chose treachery and cowardice.”

Ser Davos returned with the block as Jon finished his speech. Ser Alliser was loathe to come to the block and as he struggled to pull away trying to find a way to flee Jon stalked forward and grabbed the once knight by his throat and pulled him up off the ground just enough to make the knight’s eyes bulge in fear.

“I am your Commander, Thorne and you will go to that block because I _command_ you to do so.” Jon snarled at him.

Thorne grimaced at him defiantly and spat in Jon’s face. Jon threw him down roughly in the snow in front of the block and wiped the traitors spit from his face. Jon grasped the hilt of Lightbringer drawing it once more from the ground and strode to the block. Jon did not love killing but he would find no discomfort in delivering his sword into Alliser Thorne’s neck. Jon cleared his throat, nervous to speak the words of his new titles before sentencing the man before him to death.

“I Jon Targaryen” there were several gasps around him and he could see Lady Melisandre’s look of realization. He continued “of House Stark and House Targaryen, blood of the dragon and the wolf, The one true King of Westeros, King of the Andals, The Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and the Azor Ahai reborn, sentence you, Ser Alliser Thorne to death.” He took a deep breath thinking about what a mouthful his titles were. He looked Thorne in the eye then “Any last words Ser?” He asked with a stony look on his face.

“You’re no king of mine, no commander of mine, and I spit on the person who named you anything more than the bastard you are, _Lord Snow_.” Thorne spit on the ground in front of Melisandre and bowed his head.

Jon threw his sword back gracefully and after taking a deep cleansing breath he swung the sword forward with the agility of a wolf and the fierceness of a dragon. Ser Alliser head was severed from his body in one strike and the blood gushed from his open throat onto the pale snow. His head rolled with the force of the hit, landing at the Red Lady’s feet. She showed no disgust, only contempt, with the traitors to her God’s Champion being served the Kings justice.

Later after all of the sentences were carried out and the bodies had been burned away to ash Jon laid in his chambers pondering what would happen next. He knew he had to leave the wall soon. The wall may seem like the end of the world and the most secluded land in all the kingdoms, but Jon knew better. Word would travel of his declaration and his claim of being a Targaryen and then it was only a matter of time before the gold cloaks or Stannis’s army found him and had him beheaded as he’d done to six men just that day.

As he laid there contemplating his Mother’s words he wondered what awaited him in Mereen. An army? That would be useful and would be needed in a short time anyways if he planned to take the iron throne. Or maybe it was a person; an ally or a long lost family member. He could only wait and see and hope this wasn’t all a ruse that would get him killed. Again.

He had started to doze when there was a soft knock on the door. He rose sleepily, pushing his long curls back from his face just as his mother had just a few hours ago. He swung his door open to find the Red Lady bent in front of his door scratching behind Ghost’s ears as the Dire wolf panted up at her happily. Jon looked on strangely at the scene before stepping aside so they could both enter.

“He usually doesn’t take well to unknown people.” Jon spoke quietly as he reached down to pat Ghost’s head affectionately. He had missed the wolf and had been afraid he’d never see him again as he died face down in the snow, whispering the wolf’s name before fading away to another realm. It was obvious to Jon that Ghost had missed him too. The large wolf stayed at his side and licked at his hand periodically.

“He did not like me when I first came to him but I told him how I wished to take him to you and he followed obediently.” The Red Woman spoke in a voice like smoke.

“Obediently? He’s not a damn hound that I keep as a pet. He’s a wolf and you’d do good to remember that My Lady.”

“Of course My King.” She nodded with a smile.

“How did you know…” He trailed off unsure of where to begin.

“How did I know that you were the Son of Fire reborn at last? I simply asked the God of Light to show me a glimpse of the Azor Ahai and he showed me a vision of you.”

Jon looked confused. He knew of the Red God of course. Despite popular belief, he did know some things. He knew the tale, had heard it in his chamber in Winterfell from old Nan when he had fallen ill at age nine. He remembered the story of the first Azor Ahai and the forging of lightbringer as well as the prophecy of another Son of Fire to rise. ‘There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour, a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him’ She had said as he hung on her every word.

“What did you see?” He asked suspiciously.

“I saw a dragon and a wolf lying together as a man and woman would, the fair Lady Lyanna birthing you in blood and tears in a high tower.” She hesitated to tell him of the silver haired girl. She knew that he was aware of the silver haired Targaryen queen across the sea. Just as she knew he was aware that she was his aunt and she held a mother’s vigil over three dragons. What she didn’t know is whether he would want to find her and if they did, would the mother of dragons embrace him or spill his blood.

“And?” Jon asked impatiently.

“And I saw you with a wolf pup.” She smiled down at ghost before taking a deep breath “I saw a girl of four and ten with a baby dragon at her breast.”

“My aunt Daenerys.” He breathed as if suddenly remembering all that he had lost and the one he had gained without even knowing it.

“Indeed my King.” Melisandre smiled.

“What else was there?” He asked eagerly, hoping for more word of his only living family, to his knowledge at least.

“I saw you becoming a wolf and howling with declarations of taking what was yours with Fire and Blood. And I saw you being betrayed by your brothers again.” She took a breath and looked up into her Azor Ahai’s eyes.

How long had her and her people of the Red God been waiting for this young man’s return? Eons it seemed like and now here he was and she had saved him. _Thank you my God of Light for gifting me with your chosen warrior I will guide him until my last breath._ She thought, sending a small prayer to her God.

“Lastly I saw myself speaking the words of old pleading with the Lord of Light to restore your flame. I bestowed the kiss of life upon you and claimed you the Azor Ahai as you were reborn amidst salt and smoke.”

Jon had blushed at the kiss part but quickly realized that it was what sealed his resurrection. He nodded at the Red Lady to confirm he understood.

“Why weren’t you with Stannis? I thought he was your one true king?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow at her until he saw her face drain of all color.

“My King… Stannis has perished in battle. His Lady Wife Hanged by her own hand and his daughter burned alive.” She spoke quietly with her eyes trained on the ground.

Jon hadn’t been particularly fond of any of the Baratheon’s but His Uncle Ned Stark had died for Stannis’s cause and now his cause was over and he had died just as his Mom, Father, Uncle and countless others had. He was saddened to hear of the child burning. She hadn’t been a very pretty thing but she was just a babe nonetheless.

“Who burned the child?” Jon asked gruffly.

“I did My King.” Jon stared at her with a mixture of shock and anger.

“She was just a child! Why in seven hells would you kill her? Much less burn her alive?”

“My King I beg all your pardons. I thought it was the Gods work! The god who deemed it fit to restore your light and claim you as his chosen warrior! Your grace forgive me I had no knowledge that the child’s sacrifice was not needed.” She had ended up on her knees tears streaming down her face.

Melisandre had always seemed hard and cold and devious but Jon could see now that she was just a woman. A powerful, righteous woman, but a woman nonetheless. She wept for the babe and her former King and even His Lady Wife. When she had pulled herself together, she looked into his gray eyes solemnly.

“If you wish me to pay for my crimes, Your Grace, I would gladly do so. I only ask that you give me death by fire.”

He shook his head and she began to weep again. “Thank you Your Grace. For payment of your mercy, I give you my life. Mind, body, and soul are yours. I must confess I’m not very good at wielding a sword, but my visions and guidance from the Lord of Light himself are yours until my last day.”

“Rise Lady Melisandre. I accept your oath but know that I will not protect you every minute of every day. And if you betray me I will have your head just as I had my murderers.” She nodded “Now I have an aunt and an army to find and I would like your assistance in finding the first mentioned thing.”

“Anything your grace and you might find I do not need protecting.” She smiled with a cryptic tone in her voice.

Jon concluded the only way to have her understand and give her best council was to tell her about the other realm he found himself in with his mother after he had died. When he had finished she looked quite enthralled and amazed but he didn’t have the time nor the patience to answer her questions when he had so many of his own.

“My Lady Mother told me that my destiny lies across the narrow sea in Mereen. Do you know anything of this ancient city?”

Melisandre’s eyes lit up and her back straightened at the knowledge she knew the mother of dragons and her army resided in the city a few months ago but she was unsure whether they still had control over the once enslaved city.

“I know that your aunt Daenerys Stormborn held reign over the city a few months ago. I’m not sure if she still resides there but it is said that she marched her army of freed unsullied warriors to the gates and took the city. She is called the Breaker of Chains in many places for freeing so many of the slaved people.” Melisandre had to admire the Queen across the sea for she had once been a slave herself.

Jon looked and felt awed at his mysterious silver haired goddess across the sea. He knew she claimed herself Queen and had three dragons as her children but surely she wouldn’t turn away blood no matter how strong Jon’s claim to the throne was. She couldn’t be as cruel as her own father or her brother, Jon’s Father, Rhaegar, if she was freeing slaved cities.

He put his hopes and life on a whim. Trusting this silver haired aunt he’d never met before based on the words of a child burner. But his mother had told him that his destiny was in Mereen and if nothing else he trusted his Lady Mother.

He heaved a huge sigh and spoke “You will find me a ship. It doesn’t have to travel directly to Mereen. We can sail to Astapor and find a smaller boat or ship to Mereen. Find a boat with room and food for us both and see if Ser Davos would like to join us. He’ll have more chance of being hanged for a traitor here than he would in my service.”

“Your Grace where will I get the coin for this ship to Astapor?”

“I’m sure you or Ser Davos can solve that problem somehow My Lady.”

“Of course Your Grace. When would you like to sail?” Melisandre asked.

“Two days from the morrow.” As he looked out the window and noticed the full moon high in the sky he realized that it might already be the morrow. He stifled a yawn as he realized just how drained he was. “Dying takes a lot out of a man.” He snickered to himself.

The Red Lady nodded “I must retire now My Lady if we plan to sail in two days time. I must recover my strength.” Jon said politely not wanting to outright kick her out of his chambers.

“Of course my King. I will see to your orders at once. Rest well Azor Ahai.” She said striding out of his room pulling the door closed softly behind her.

Jon laid back on his bed and Ghost curled up at the bottom laying on half of Jon’s legs. He laid there for a bit just staring up at the ceiling thinking about how everything had changed so fast. He was a bastard Night Watch Commander last night and now he was a proclaimed king, a God’s champion reborn and most importantly a Targaryen.

He also thought about what kind of obstacles or victories lay ahead. He thought about how if the prophecy was true and he was the Azor Ahai reborn that if he failed, the world failed with him. But then he thought about succeeding. He thought of wielding a sword of flames on the back of a dragon burning all of the White Walkers to ash. He thought of a never ending summer and being the one to bring unity and peace to the kingdoms. As he finally drifted off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning he had one final image fly through his head. A silver-haired and violet-eyed queen ruling by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm so I hope Jon knows what he's getting himself into with the Mother of Dragons ;). His sail to his Aunt will of course be long and tedious and He's not even aware his silver haired queen has been taken by Khal Jhaqo :( but as he makes his way across the Narrow Sea I might jump to Dany's POV but we'll see! Thanks for reading and don't forget to tell me what you think!


	4. The Hardest Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all this is the fourth installment of asowad and the longest chapter to date :)! some of you were wondering why Jon wanted to leave the wall and take the throne or why he couldn't find his own army fist and this chapter explains all of that! I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks again for reading, commenting and all of the positive feedback. Enjoy!  
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo

# A Song of Wolves and Dragons

### The Hardest Goodbye

As the days turned into weeks Jon regretted trusting the Red Lady. He had granted her forgiveness and acceptance of her oath on the mere premise of owing her a debt. Jon was no Lannister but he knew that an honorable man could not kill a woman that had saved his life and call himself just. Yet she had brought Stannis into ruin and now Jon was sure he would be the next to befall her betrayal. As Jon wandered around the grounds of Castle Black he could feel the eyes on his back. His brothers had been staring at him for weeks, muttering words like “deserter” and “oathbreaker” behind his back. As Jon heard the words more and more he began to believe them.

He wondered why his death had changed him enough to make him want to take off the black cloak he wore and trade it for a crown. He knew a lot of it lied with his Mother. _This is what she wanted_. A voice echoed in his head. But her wants did not make them his. He knew that when he had risen again in the flames he had felt different than before. Sure he could have forgotten his mother’s words and forgotten he was an heir to a throne, a prophesized warrior and a Targaryen.

But Jon knew what a destiny meant. He knew what the white winds that were rising over the lands meant. He had seen them himself the wights with their blue eyes and skin like ice. He remembered them and their fierceness and how every time a man of Jon’s went down, the army of Others gained another soldier.

He also knew that the Nights Watch had lost a lot of men in the recent months when they had only had so few to begin with. He had seen the force that was the army of undead. They had wildlings but even though Jon had given them safety behind the wall, he knew these people. When the Others come storming the gates, the wildlings will strike back but savagely and without good weapons. There numbers would fall fast and the rest would flee to the south as they had wanted to all along.

He needed an army and he needed one fast. He had no gold to buy sellswords or any lords that would bend the knee to him. He had only an aunt in a distant place who claimed herself a queen and knew nothing of his existence. If he were to make it to Mereen alive he swore to himself right then that if it meant getting an army to defeat the wights, he would bend the knee to his Aunt. He would not lie and say the thought of being a King frightened him when he could barely rule a group of rapers and murderers.

He had no wishes for crowns or glory now that the weeks had given him time to process his parentage and his birthright to the throne. He would rather give up the Iron Throne to a more deserving Targaryen and shield her back in exchange for an army when winter was finally upon their doorstep. He always chose duty and honor before this but duty and honor had gotten his Uncle Killed. He would not follow a path of madness as his Father had either. He would do what his mother had always wanted since the day Rhaegar stole her from her bed. He would follow family, he would sail to this foreign land and pledge fealty to his Queen Aunt.

And when all that was done he would return to the wall to face what he was meant for with an army at his back and when it was all over, if he survived the army of wights, he would bask in the summer he was destined to bring and he would retake his oath and live the rest of his days on the wall as he was meant to. The Gods had seen fit to release him from his vows and his mother had told him where he would find his destiny and who was he to question either of them?

  


Another two nights had passed and Jon sat in his chambers finishing his work and orders as Lord Commander. He began to worry about how long he had stayed here after proclaiming himself a true Targaryen and the rightful King. He heard a man on the battlements a little ways away from Jon’s window.

“Riders approaching! Open the gates!"

Jon cursed and stood up quickly from his table knocking over a jar of ink as he went. He paid no mind as it smashed against the floor. He only grabbed his sword and threw his door open. He had told the guards to not open the front gates for anyone without his consent. That guard could be letting in Gold Cloaks for all Jon knew. He cursed again as he flung the door to the small chamber tower open, the biting cold wind coming off the wall smacking him in the face relentlessly. The snows were getting worse; anyone could see it.

He saw two horses with two riders and had it not been for one of the riders red glowing eyes he would not have been able to tell who either of them were from this distance. He breathed a sigh of relief. He walked through the deep snow to greet them. As he approached he noticed she had a busted lip and a gash that spread from her eyebrow, across her eyelid, and down her cheek. It had been cleaned a stitched but it was still gruesome to look at. Ser Davos looked sullen and lost. He had barely noticed Jon’s presence. Ser Davos’s hand was gloved but Jon could see the awkward way he held his hand to his midsection and the odd angle of his fingers.

“Lady Melisandre, Ser Davos, did you find trouble on the road? What happened to your face, My Lady? And your hand Ser?” Jon asked cautiously.

“My King we found no trouble on the road; only between ourselves.” The Red Lady glanced at Ser Davos in fear of angering him.

Lady Melisandre had known how much the princess Shireen had meant to Ser Davos. She was like the niece or daughter he’d always wished to have a closeness with. She had taught him to read, had been kind to him when he thought his days were numbered, and had wiggled her way into his heart. She knew he deserved to know the princesses fate which is why she waited until they were far away from any other soul before telling him.

She hadn’t needed to tell him it was she who had burned the babe at the stake. He knew. He had sat for a minute as if contemplating every piece of information that was given to him. Before she knew it he had struck her and then again and again until half of her face had split open under his fists and the other side of her face was purple with bruises.

She had wiped the blood off her face had bent her knee and begged his forgiveness. She begged him to follow Jon. Told him what destiny lay ahead for all who would oppose the Dragonwolf or the Mother of Dragons. She told him how she had seen the two Targaryen’s victory in the flames, that they would conquer and darkness would flee before them.

He hadn’t believed her of course. He wasn’t a man of the Gods. He was a smuggler, an onion knight laughed at by all the other Sers, Kings, and Lords of Westeros. But Ser Davos knew of Jon’s blood he had seen him lay in a pyre and rise from it alive and whole, the way only a true dragon could. The Seven Kingdoms held no more love for him and he held no more love for the people in it. All he had loved was dead and he would be a dead man if he stayed there. Davos resolved to cross the sea with the young Targaryen and the traitorous witch. If nothing else he could go to Pentos and become a sellsword if this Young Dragon didn’t live up to Davos’s hopes for a true King. He also wasn’t going to let another man fall into the red woman’s whispers. He had failed one king he would not fail another, no matter if he bent the knee to Jon or not. If all else failed at least he could say he got to see dragons and protect two kings before he died.

“Why in seven hells did you strike her Ser?” Jon asked bringing Davos back to the present.

“She killed the Princess.” He answered lifting his eyes to meet Jon’s.

Jon had seen the way Davos had looked after Princess Shireen as if she were his own blood when they had stayed at the wall. He nodded and gave the man a look of sympathy. He knew what it felt like to lose loved ones all too well.

“I must say I’m surprised you didn’t kill her.” Jon said thinking about how if he had Cercei Lannister all by herself he didn’t think he could contain his rage.

“I might not pray to her Gods, I might hate the woman with all of my being, and I might want to kill her, but I saw her bring you back from death with a handful of words and a kiss. I saw you rise from flames unscathed. I know a true dragon when I see one. I served the one true king once and I failed. I don’t plan on failing you Your Grace. I would not a take a life you had just pardoned.”

Ser Davos drew his sword and knelt before Jon in the freezing snow laying the sword at Jon’s feet. “I am your sworn sword Your Grace. I will follow you wherever you go, shield your back, and give my life for yours if need be.”

Jon knew he couldn’t tell them of his plans to bend the knee to his Aunt. They were the only thing that would help him go to her. He would let them call him ‘Your Grace’ and proclaim him a king until they got to Mereen and then if they wished to go he would annul any of their oaths in the sight of the Gods.

Jon gave a forced half smile to the kneeling knight “Rise Ser Davos. You are now a Knight and Sworn sword of a King.”

Ser Davos rose at his words and looked into the young dragons eyes “I give you all my thanks Your Grace. You have honored me beyond measure. But you must excuse me. I need to find some milk of the poppy for my hand’s pain.” He turned to Melisandre then with a twinkle of disdain in his eyes. “Inform the king of our findings Red Woman.” He said stiffly and left them without another word.

“Shall we break bread together my king?” Melisandre smiled nodding toward the dining hall.

It was past dinner but Jon knew he could use a cup of Ale at least. They entered the almost deserted hall as Ghost trotted up behind them. Jon turned back to give the wolf a pat on the head and sat at one of the first tables he came to. Ghost curled up at his feet and laid his head down to rest.

A steward approached him with cautious eyes. The boy had recently sworn his vows even though Jon could still smell the summer on him. A young green boy just as he had been. The lad didn’t know enough about Jon to call him a traitor or an oathbreaker which Jon was grateful for. He only saw him as his Lord, His commander, and the only man in Castle Black that could kill him and not have to pay the price for it later.

“M’Lord, M’Lady we have already dined for the evening but I have some bread, hard cheese and ale if it please you.” The boy said while looking at his shoes.

“That will do fine…” Jon trailed off suddenly not knowing the green boys name.

“Nathaniel Stone M’Lord.” The boy filled in for Jon. _Ah a bastard of The Veil. Just as I was a Bastard of Winterfell for 17 years_. Jon thought to himself and felt sad for the boy knowing the pain of being a bastard.

“Aye then that will do fine Nathaniel.” Jon said gruffly, trying to hide the emotions he was feeling, and the boy scampered off.

“Did you find me a ship?” Jon blurted anxious to be out of Westeros but even more anxiety came with being _in_ Westeros at the moment.

She averted her eyes “I did your grace.”

He narrowed his eyes at her “Are you lying to me My Lady?”

Her eyes widened “Of course not my king. We did find you a ship. We just couldn’t find one to Astapor.” She said quietly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where to then? Pentos or Myr?”

“Your Grace you must understand in these troubled times of war and hunger no ships in the North are sailing anywhere in the South except to Kings Landing to bring crops and trade. Or rather what little is being brought in.”

“What are you saying Red woman?”

“I’m saying if you want to get to Mereen you must sail to Kings Landing first. The captain I found assures me there is to be a ship sailing directly from Kings Landing to Mereen the day we are supposed to come upon the shore.”

“And if he’s wrong? If one of the Queen’s little spies see me? If anyone I’ve met before sees me? Or worse if we miss the ship. What then My Lady?”

Melisandre opened her mouth to respond but Nathaniel came walking up then the tips of his ears turning read as he realized he’d interrupted “I beg your pardons M’Lord. I didn’t mean to interrupt you and the Lady.” He said placing the food and ale down quickly and retreating.

Jon drank his ale and bit off a chunk of bread and tossed some to Ghost. He gazed at him then. If they were to do this and sail to Kings Landing Ghost would be a dead giveaway. Nor could he leave him here as all the people he could’ve trusted with his dear wolf had fled or died. A thought came to him a thought that pained him and made his heart lurch. Letting his wolf go beyond the wall were he had fared well before. He shook his head to clear it. He told himself to forget the thought that he’d work it out. He nodded at Lady Melisandre to continue what she’d been about to say.

“My King Ser Davos and I would give our lives for you but even so the Lord of Light did not resurrect you just to slaughter you in the streets of Flea Bottom.” He hardly believed her words couldn’t believe he was even thinking about risking something like this.

“How are we to pay for the ships?” Jon asked in a strained voice.

“I knew of a few places owing me favors or coin. There were a few others that I will owe in time but nonetheless it is done and our first ship will be paid for.”

“And how will we pay for the second?”

“You will work for coin on the ship we are to board. The captain has agreed to give you a handful of silvers for every son of his you train on the sea.” Melisandre had worked hard to get that deal. She could see the man could afford it with his golden rings and heavy furs.

Jon nodded his agreement. He’s never trained swordsmen on a boat but there was a first time for everything. It couldn’t be much harder than swinging a sword on land.

“In exchange for your training he has also agreed to give his best fitted son as a squire, to train and be educated under your wing.”

Jon sighed and rubbed a hand down his face “Aye ok I’ll take the boy just be sure his father is aware of what he’s getting his son into, that the boy may not come back. I won’t have an angry father wanting my head on a spike because his barely trained boy died in battle.”

“I will see to it that he knows my king. We sail from a small port just off the shore of the Bay of Seals in a week’s time.”

“We’ll leave on the morrow at midday. I must break fast with my brothers and tell them. I’m going to my chambers to prepare my things. I suggest you find Ser Davos and tell him to do the same.” Jon said getting up from the table and striding out the door with Ghost on his heels.

He walked quickly from the dining hall to the tower that held his chambers. When he entered his room he immediately went to the fireplace to light a fire to rid the biting cold from his bones. After he had done that he set himself to the task of packing his belongings. Being in the Nights Watch he didn’t have many. He had a small bag of money only a few silvers and coppers. The only thing of real value he owned was his sword.

Ghost jumped up on the bed in front of him and licked at his face. Jon knew then that he couldn’t take the wolf where he was going. Even if he could sneak Ghost onto the next ship Mereen was too hot for a creature of the north such as a direwolf. It would be selfish of Jon to take the animal on a voyage that might very well kill him. The wolf deserved more than that. And maybe if he was lucky when he came back to the wall Ghost would find him again.

Jon swiped at the tears on his face angrily. He was a Targaryen, a Dragonwolf, and the Azor Ahai and he was crying over a wolf. _Don’t be a child Jon_. He told himself. _Kill the boy and let the man be born._

As he packed the last of his clothes he thought about leading his wolf outside the wall and leaving the wall without him. Trying to chase the thoughts away he instead thought of sailing and finally getting to Mereen. It was a dream that could not possibly become a reality. He felt as he was making a wrong step in sailing to Kings Landing. _What could happen in a few hours?_ He asked himself.

But then he remembered how in a few short hours he had died and resurrected a king and a prophesized warrior. He thought of how in a few short hours his brother, no cousin, Robb had been betrayed and murdered in front of his Lady Mother. In a few short hours his mother Lyanna had fallen in love with his father Rhaegar and began a war she hadn’t even anticipated.

A few short hours could mean the end of all that he’d come so far to learn and accept. A few short hours could get anyone killed. But he had no choice. To find his only family and earn his army he would first have to sail right into the den of the lions.

In the morning after he had broken fast with his brothers he resigned to his chambers for some time with Ghost before he would have to leave the wolf. The morning had come quickly and as he had woken he realized how much he was not looking forward to breakfast. To his shock his plans had gone around nicely save for the people that still called him a deserter or still hated him for his choices before his death. He thought to himself how he was sure most of them were just telling him what he wanted to hear because they wanted him gone.

The Wall he had called his home for almost four years was now as unwelcoming as Catelyn Stark had been. He felt saddened by this. It was almost as if he’d lost someone else. Then he realized he had. When he died he had lost himself, Jon Snow had died. Gone were his friends from boyhood. His family was gone. His Brothers of the Nights Watch betrayed him or had died. He had lost Winterfell and now he’d lost the Wall. And in a few hours he would lose his wolf and might never see him again.

He sat on his bed in his chambers and held his head in his hands, his fingers gripping at his curls of black hair. Ghost trotted in the door and over to his side and shoved his head in Jon’s lap. Jon moved back laughing at the wolf’s antics but as soon as the laugh started it had already begun to fade. He grasped at the wolf’s albino fur and looked into his red eyes.

They sat there for a while just staring at each other. The wolf’s eyes looked sad as if he knew what was coming. Jon laid back on the bed and Ghost followed suit jumping up on the bed and curling protectively around Jon. Jon laid there and stroked the wolf’s fur enjoying his last friend’s company.

Before he knew it the sun was raising in the sky marking it time for Jon to take Ghost beyond the wall. He sat up and strode across the room calling for Ghost to follow him. He grabbed his bag of things and his sword resolving to get his chest of clothes after he was done. He strode across the grounds slowly prolonging what was imminent. He called for someone to open the tunnel and they looked at him strangely but obliged.

He jerked his head to indicate to Ghost to follow and they started the trek down the long tunnel. Jon took slow step and slowed even more when they reach the midway point. Ghost seemed to realize something was wrong with Jon. The wolf kept looking to him and whimpering sadly as if begging him not to go. The thought ripped at Jon’s heart and he felt tears sting his eyes. _No. You will not cry. You are stronger than that._ Jon thought as he set his face to a stony expression.

When they reached the end of the tunnel Jon finally turned to the wolf. He knelt down in the mud in front of Ghost and looked into his red eyes for the second time that day. “You listen I know you can understand me.” Jon said to the wolf and Ghost’s ears perked up as he cocked his head to the side.

Jon shook his head and smiled. “I have to go away for a bit. Somewhere I might get hurt.” At the word hurt Ghost snarled and Jon laughed tears staring to form in his eyes. He swallowed them back.

“I’ll be okay don’t worry. But I can’t… I can’t take you with me Ghost.” Jon’s voice was filled with emotion as he spoke to his direwolf, his only connection to home. “I need you to stay beyond the wall. People south… they’ll hurt you. You were made for the north and you’ll be safer there. Find your own kind. Remember the lone wolf dies.” The wolf whined at him, protesting.

“I need you to do this for me because you’re my last Stark connection Ghost. My last piece of home. I won’t lead you to your death and I won’t make you watch mine. Not a second time.” Jon was shaking now with pent up emotion. The pain strained his voice “I need you to keep yourself safe for me. And when I come back to the wall you’ll know and I’ll see you again.” The tears threatened to run down his cheeks and as the wolf nuzzled his cheek as if saying “We’ll see each other again my friend” Jon threw his arms around the wolf’s neck. He buried his face into his fur letting his tears fall where no one, not even the Gods could see.

He held on for what felt like hours before he pulled away sadly and got up to open the end gate. He did this quickly as he couldn’t prolong this too painful goodbye anymore for fear of him changing his mind. Once it was up and the white winds struck them hard Ghost looked up at him as if to say “Are you sure?”

Jon nodded and the wolf nodded back before taking off across the endless sea of snow and trees. Jon watched Ghost go with tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t care anymore who saw him or heard him as his shoulders shook. He had let go of the last solid thing he had in his life, his last tie to his life at Winterfell, and his last friend. Jon watched until he couldn’t tell the snow from the wolf and only then did he turn around and stride towards his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the fourth chapter. I'm sorry if the last bit made you sad but it wouldn't have made since for him to take Ghost. Mereen is hot and sandy and no place for a Direwolf and he would've been a dead giveaway for Jon being there to anyone in King's Landing. But don't worry this won't be the last we see of our favorite wolf! Once again thanks for reading it means a lot to me and don't forget to comment what you thought of this chapter!   
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo


	5. The Halfman's Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all and sorry for the long wait! I ran into a bit of a writing block but all is well now and I was finally able to write out a decent chapter! This chapter takes place in Mereen and is completely centered around Tyrion. I was nervous about writing a new setting and different characters but I'm pleased with how this turned out. So enjoy and thanks again for reading!  
> Much love,  
> Rin xoxo

# A Song of Wolves and Dragons

### The Halfman's Plan

Tyrion felt more drained than he had in ages. His knowledge of ruling was few and far between. He had served as hand for some time but he quickly learned that serving King’s Landing and serving Mereen were worlds apart. The council had been working tirelessly to weed out the Sons of the Harpy with little success. The people were getting restless and growing more likely to panic with each passing day without the Queen’s return. It had nearly been two and a half moon cycles since Ser Jorah and Daario Naharis left to find Her Grace and there had been no word or whispers of them in weeks.

Tyrion had turned to books in the past month to read on the basic governing strategies of the free cities and Slavers Bay. He had not learned much as most heads of government practiced slavery and gained most of their business from slave trade which the Queen had ended, for now at least. Tyrion shifted stiffly in his chair forcing his eyes to focus on the dull words on the parchment in front of him. His chambers were alight with only a few candles and the light of a half-moon streaming in from the balcony.

After a few moments of reading the same line over four times he sighed and pushed the heavy book across the table. The movement cause two smaller books and a stack of old documents fall to the floor. He cursed and got down from his chair before waddling to where the sea of papers had fallen. He picked each one up gingerly, smoothing out the damage that had been done.

He reached for a tattered, almost illegible scroll that had fallen and been halfway folded by one of the books that had fallen. Tyrion cursed again and picked the delicate paper up as if it were a babe still suckling at its Mother’s breast. He took a painstakingly long time unfolding it from its broken position and even longer to smooth out all its creases.

As he was about to roll it up and set it back in its rightful place a word caught his eye. _‘Zaldrïzes’_ , High Valyrian for Dragon. Tyrion had only had the pleasure of seeing one of the Queens children but knew two others were housed, or rather held, in a stone tomb beneath the pyramid in which he sat now. The one he had seen had flown away with Daenerys on his back and nonfatal injuries in his wings. A blanket of curiosity and instinct flowed through Tyrion as he stood up and laid the withered scroll on the table.

He knew High Valyrian well enough. His tongue was a bit out of practice he was sure but the words came easy to him. As his eyes scanned the parchment they widened ever so often. By the time he had finished making out the faded writing, the sun was just peeking over the horizon and his jaw had slackened, his mouth agape in realization. A plan had already formed in his mind but he knew he couldn’t carry it out alone or without advisement. He felt an odd mixture of hope and fear stir in his stomach. His plan could finally find their queen or could get them all killed or fatally injured but he saw no better option and they were running out of time. All he had to do now was call the council to order and hope they didn’t think he’d finally lost his last bit of sanity

It was midmorning by the time the Council had gathered. Tyrion had sent one of the guards to bring word to Missandei, Grey Worm, and Varys. In the Queen’s absence, the council had named Varys the spider Master of Whispers. The other two members of the council had fought against Tyrion not wanting to take anyone into the Mereneese council without the Queen’s knowledge. But Tyrion knew better, Varys was dangerous with his skill in secrets but less so when you fought for the same cause on the same council. Tyrion took a seat at the head of the table and poured himself a glass of wine. The other council members watched him as he swallowed the whole cup down before sighing, belching grossly, and pouring another cup. He gave his audience a half smirk and sat back in his chair.

“Any whispers of Jorah Mormont or Daario Naharis Lord Varys?”

The Eunuch grimaced “I’m afraid they may have reached places even my little birds can’t see. All we can do now is wait and wonder My Lord.”

_So he thinks_ Tyrion thought to himself hiding a sly smile behind his cup of wine. “And you, Grey Worm, any progress taking out those Sons of the Harpy characters?”

“Unsullied and Grey Worm have captured many small Harpys but none leaders. We ask questions of them. They speak nothing.” Grey Worms Common Tongue had improved greatly but he still talked in broken tongue when piecing together sentences.

“Have you tried getting more forceful with your interrogations, Commander?”

“No Lord Tyrion. Grey Worm instructed not to harm, only to ask.”

“Well you are the Commander of the Unsullied and each day these Sons of the Harpy prowl our streets is another day closer to your Queen’s city falling. Do as you see fit to get the answers we need.” Tyrion advised and Grey Worm nodded.

Tyrion looked to Missandei then. She had grown thin since the Queen rode off on Drogon’s back. Her dark eyes were clouded and the dark circles beneath her eyes showed the days she’d gone with little sleep. He never knew what to advise her to do as she was the Queen’s Hand Maiden of sorts and her womanly advisor. Without the Queen, Missandei struggled with her sense of purpose. But now, Tyrion finally had a job for her.

He took out the old High Valyrian scroll from under the table then. He unrolled it carefully and smoothed out the creases absentmindedly. “My Lords, I seemed to have stumbled across a bit of Dragon history in my study of politics. Don’t ask me how maybe the fates or the Gods themselves bestowed this dilapidated parchment on me to serve a purpose. Maybe I’m just a lucky dwarf. I don’t really care about the specifics all I care about is what I discovered.” He paused then and looked at his fellow council members. “Who here can read High Valyrian?”

“I can, My Lord.” Missandei said so quietly Tyrion almost missed it.

He smiled gently at her and handed the scroll to her “Here read this. Be easy though, barely grasp in between the tips of your fingers and careful with the corners. It’s very old.” She nodded and started to read to herself.

Tyrion sipped his wine while they waited. He caught Varys looking at him strangely but he only smiled and winked. Missandei put the scroll on the table after a few minutes her brow furrowed as she looked at Tyrion.

“My Lord this is… interesting history, but I’m afraid I don’t see the purpose of this.”

“Ah yes, interesting indeed, my dear. If you would please explain my findings to these two men…” he paused to look at Varys and smiled impishly “Well I mean to say these two people. I’m afraid I can’t speak for what lies beneath Lord Varys trousers.”

Lord Varys rolled his eyes at the half man but quickly turned his attention to Missandei. Grey Worm stared at her too with an intensity Missandei was not oblivious too as she caught his eyes for a brief second her dark skin flushing with red. She cleared her throat and read the parchment in a melodic clear voice.

“Dragons when laid from the same dragon and hatched from the same mother they share a special bond. When born amidst fire and raised as the same blood this bond strengthens. Dragons are creatures of magic and instinct and when they are gifted with brothers or sisters they will always be attuned with their family. When commanded to do so by their riders or when they feel their blood needs them most they can find their own in a short time. Dragons are known hunters and the hunt is strongest in them when their blood is threatened.”

Tyrion didn’t bother to hide his triumphant smile now. Grey Worm looked utterly confused trying to understand the wording of the common tongue and what it meant. Missandei had started to look at the small man curiously and Varys eyes had narrowed and zoned in on Tyrion. The Spider knew the workings of Tyrion’s mind and knew where all of this was heading. He opened his mouth to stop this before it had begun but Tyrion spoke first.

“Lord Varys, you know as well as I do. We are running out of time. Either the common folk will begin to panic in the streets or the Sons of the Harpy will tear the city apart until we are corpses for the birds to feast on. The longer we wait to find a safer alternative, the longer our Queen sits out in gods know where starving, dying, or worse.”

“What does Lord Tyrion purpose to do?” Missandei stared Varys down.

“I believe he means to release the other two dragons so they can search for our Queen.”

Grey Worm turned serious and albeit angry at these words “Lord Tyrion no. You cannot do this act. Dragons… they uncontrolled. They do not listen even to Queen Daenerys, their mother.”

“He is right, My Lord. The dragons are untrainable and when the queen last visited them they had grown to almost reach the tops of the ceiling and their fires almost filled the entire room. They are held by chains for a reason. The guards sometimes say they hear them growling and spewing flames through the stone walls. They can hear the chairs grinding and straining and their wailing song spreads across the city at night.”

Tyrion had heard it too late at night, the song of Dragons pierced his ears. A desperate melody that made his mangled heart stutter. They were desperate for freedom is what he always thought until he had found that scroll.

“Exactly, My Lady, they are calling because they sense something is amiss with their Mother and Brother. Did they call like this in the night before the disappearance of our Queen?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. Missandei and Grey Worm both hesitated and shared a look before shaking their heads.

Grey Worm spoke up before Tyrion could continue “That not change the fact that Dragons are a danger. They not know how to not kill or harm innocents.”

“You really think a fresh kill would stop these creatures of bond magic and instinct from finding their blood if they were in danger? I know they are dragons in every sense of the word but they are also Queen Daenerys _children_. They will find their mother.”

“My understanding is that the dragons have never taken a command from anyone other than their mother. How do you purpose to tell them what is needed to be done My Lord?” Varys asked.

“That is where I need Missandei’s help.” He smiled at the young woman “Do you know of what commands they do respond to, My Lady?”

“I have heard Queen Daenerys use two High Valyrian words to speak to her children. Sōvegon or to fly and drakarys or dragon fire.”

“So Valyrian is what they respond to.” Tyrion smirked as he realized his theory had been right. “Very well then. Missandei I will need your help with strengthening my Valyrian tongue; as you saw before, it is a bit rusty.”

She nodded then, offering him a small smile “I will help you with the phrase you will speak to the dragons as soon as you wish My Lord.”

“Tonight will do fine. After dinner, in my chambers.” She nodded and Grey Worm looked over the Dwarf with a fierceness in his eyes. Missandei laid her hand on top of his under the table and squeezed gently. He stared at her with a hard gaze before softening at the sly look she gave him.

“My Lord, why not let one of us talk to these creatures? Surely an unsullied or Missandei herself could speak the Valyrian tongue to them. Let it be on someone else’s head and not your own. We simply cannot let you walk forth to your death. The city will fall without your advisory.” Lord Varys spoke quietly.

Tyrion just laughed “Oh Varys have you grown fond of me, dear friend? Have a soft spot in your web covered heart for the imp? I assure you My Lords and Lady I do not intend to die just yet. I’m afraid even if the dragons were tempted to roast me alive I’d prove to be too small of a meal for them to waste their time.”

“Lord Tyrion, I urge you to take this as a serious matter. How do you purpose to free the beasts?” Varys asked.

“I’m so glad you asked. We’ll knock out the stone at the front of the tomb for starters so there will be enough space for light to show where the dragons stand. Grey Worm, I will need twenty of your best soldiers. I also need you to find some who knows the holding cell well so you can devise a plan of attack. You will need to find a strategy to avoid the dragon’s flames and get close enough to break the chains from where they’re tethered.”

Grey Worm kept a stony, impassive look on his face and nodded. “When will dragons be freed?” He asked lowly.

“Two days from now. I presume that will be enough time to gather all you need.” Tyrion got down from his chair then and gulped down the last bit of his wine. “Find the catapults, we’ll need them to knock that wall down. I must take my leave now; I’ll see you all in court in an hour’s time.” They all nodded and watched him go hoping they weren’t wasting their time or starting down a road to their own destruction.

Tyrion’s small bones and head ached from standing in court for so long and listening to so many trials and tribulations of the people. He had a small dinner in the comfort of his chambers and after a few glasses of wine a knock finally sounded on his door.

“Enter My Lady.” He called and the door opened slowly. Missandei shut the door behind her and made her way to the table taking a seat across from Tyrion.

“Shall we begin, My Lord?”

“As you wish, My Lady.” Tyrion gave a half tipsy smile and so began their lesson.

Two days after the council meeting the sun dawned over the city of Mereen and nerves crawled up Tyrion’s spine. He was not afraid of death, just not very fond of the idea. Especially death by dragons. He rose out of bed nonetheless knowing he had no other choice, that they had no other choice. The Valyrian phrase Missandei had taught him to pronounce with delicate precision swirled in his mind relentlessly. One small mistake could change his whole phrase into something that could anger or upset the frightening creatures.

He exited the pyramid sometime later and blocked the unrelenting sun with his hand. He found his way to the stone tomb wall where what looked like fifty soldiers stood alongside catapults. Missandei, Varys, Grey Worm and an old man in armor stood waiting for him. He approached them as quick as his legs could carry him.

“I remember asking specifically for twenty men, not fifty and who is this? A knight?” He smiled a bit unkindly at the old man.

“I am Dalysis of Mereen. A slave made into a warrior. I also hold the knowledge of every single stone, tomb, and secret passage in this Pyramid.” The old man had dark skin and golden eyes that had lost their light long ago. He was not sickly or thin as some older folk were but instead was tall though everyone was tall to Tyrion. He was built well but slim enough to be quick.

“My apologies. Thank you for helping us.”

“Anything for my Queen’s return.” He bowed slightly. “As for the extra men, Grey Worm and I assure you that they are needed. Twenty to each dragon and five on each catapult. We will keep the catapults loaded in case the dragons need to be detained or forced back.”

“Well I trust you know what you’re doing. Shall we begin?” Tyrion asked and Grey Worm nodded before calling to the Unsullied to get into formation. The unsullied manning the catapults drew them back and held their positions.

“Dovaogēdys nābēmagon!”( _Unsullied release!_ ) The catapults were released flinging boulders of all sizes at the stone. It hardly cracked. They drew the catapults and released them two more times before the dragons started to growl and wail out. The fourth launch slammed into the wall at the same time Rhaegal spit fire from the other side and the wall crumbled.

The soldiers as well as the council members almost fell back in shock. As the Dragons suddenly flew forward stretching their chains as they soared up from the pit in the earth staying level with the top of the tombs steps. Grey Worm motioned his men forward. As they separated into two groups trailing around the side of the broken walls the dragons heaved lungful’s of breath, spewing smoke and screeching in anger. As soon as Viserion spotted one of the unsullied groups approaching the dragon let out a high screech and spit flames across the land.

The men dogged quickly, some more than others. Two men went down quickly in flames and screams. As the two groups of men slipped over the rubble and down the stone walls into the dragon’s den Tyrion began to walk forward. He had to say it now or they would fly away without any commands. The dragons hissed and spit fire at their feet where Tyrion guessed the Unsullied were.

Tyrion strode with courage hoping the creatures couldn’t smell the fear wafting off of him. He waddled to the beginning of the rubble and then to the tops of the steps. The dragons had landed in their pit and were spitting fire in all directions. Men laid burning alive all over the floor. Tyrion hoped his words would distract the Dragons long enough for Grey Worm and Dalysis to undo the tethered chains.

He picked up a shield from a fallen Unsullied and held it up as high as he could. Not much could stop dragon fire but it was worth a shot. Tyrion cleared his throat and gathered his courage. It’s now or never.

“Zaldrīzes.” He called out meekly. The beasts simply hissed in his direction before shooting a ball of flames at him. He rolled behind a pile of rubble just in time the flames barely missing his head.

He grunted loudly and stood once more. He pulled his shoulders back and stood straighter. He stood fiercely on the top step. He faced the pit again with the sun at his back. His shadow stretched long and wide across the pit. He smiled _“A small man can sometimes cast a big shadow.”_ He thought.

He drew in a deep breath again “Zaldrīzes!” He roared. The beasts took to the air as much as they could with the chains still tethering them. They hissed but stared at him curiously. “Sōvegon jagon dāez java muña, java lēkia!” ( _Fly go free your Mother, your brother_ ) He paused and glanced down to see the men working away quietly and stealthily at the chains. They had almost unhooked both the chains so Tyrion spoke quickly and loudly again “Mīsagon java ānogar, zālagon jāhon qrinuntys! Sōvegon sīr!” ( _Protect your blood, burn her enemies! Fly now!_ ) He finished as the clang of chains hitting the ground reached all of their ears.

The dragons looked at Tyrion then with calm eyes. Tyrion stared back and he could’ve swore Rhaegal gave an accepting nod of his head that was indeed bigger than a horse as the rumors had said. But before he could question anything or begin to fear for their lives all over again, the two dragons called out a war cry and took to the sky. They scorched a long trail across the sand and then flew up into the sky past the clouds and sailed north until the horizon swallowed them up. The wind of their departure stirred Tyrion’s hair as he stood awestruck at the visage of the two dragons flying off to finally bring their Queen home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so that's the fifth installment of Asowad! I hoped you liked the plan Tyrion had and the hope of the Dragons finding Dany. The next chapter will most likely pan to Dany and her Dragons making an appearance to help her. I was really nervous about the High Valyrian sentences and although they're not completely grammatically correct for the way High Valyrian is written I'm still proud of how well they turned out. Thanks again for reading and don't forget to comment what you thought!  
> Much Love,  
> RIn xoxo


	6. A Woman's Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I know what you're all thinking; "Finally!". Haha! I know I'm terrible! I had a lot of trouble with figuring out how I wanted to portray Daenerys kidnapping (Queennapping?) But I figured it out so here we are! Chapter six. Thanks for all of you who stuck around and waited I hope its worth the wait! Thanks for reading and don't forget to comment!  
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo

# A Song of Wolves and Dragons

### A Woman's Weapon

Daenerys felt as if she had stepped back in time. The sun scorching her lips and skin, the smell of blood, sweat and horses, the thick animalistic tongue being spoken around her. The Dothraki Sea had not changed, though she hadn’t expected it to. Her garb had been changed into the things she wore as a child of four and ten. She no longer felt like a queen, but was reminded of a time before. Before Mereen or Quarth, before her dragons, before her sweet husband had perished.

They had found her two and a half moon turns ago. In the moment she had seen all the horses and screaming Dothraki crest of that hill she had thought she would die. The Dothraki are not well known for letting a woman go free of harm, much less a Queen. She had been grabbed, man handled and stripped of her clothing, but she had long ago lost her fear of showing her body. As a woman her body was a weapon as much as a sword. And so she had found the angle to save her life. 

She felt vile, but the cost for survival had always been high no matter your birth status. The first night she had fought the men off as they tried to rape her. Khal Jhaqo had saved her in a way. He had demanded that only a Khal should be able to fuck a queen and so that was that, none of the other men dared to touch her. She had wanted to fight her way through all of them to get home. All she could think about was the young girl Ereoh that Jhaqo and Mago had stolen and brutally raped all those years ago. But trying to escape meant death so she had no other choice than to bide her time. 

He kept her at his side every day when they rode, her hands bound and barely hanging onto the reigns of the horse the Khal had so graciously given her to ride. By night she was left in a small tent with two guards posted. She felt immensely trapped from sunrise to sunset. 

The first few weeks she had let him take her from behind as the Dothraki always do, only fighting the first few times. She counted her blessings for the first time that she could no longer bare children as it was one less thing to worry about. She learned quickly to not fight, to just let it happen. He had given her several reminders of her status here, first a bloody lip and then a bruised stomach. The last time she had tried to fight she had spit in his face and before she could blink he had a knife at her throat. She never fought after that. 

Within a few weeks she had only thought of one way to gain security here. As she thought about what she was about to do she thought again about how history was repeating itself. How she was about to use the same plan she had used to win Drogo’s heart, to mayhaps win her freedom. 

After a moon turn one night she waited for him in the small tent she had been given. She had long since shed her garb and laid on the fur pelt that laid in front of the hearth. She waited after supper, till dusk. When the sun had disappeared behind the horizon and the coals of the fire had started to burn low she started to thank all the heavens. Maybe tonight he would not come. 

But she had wished too soon and the flaps of the tents flew open. The Khal had a face with deep lines and creases, most likely from the permanent grimace that settled into his face. His hair was long, though not as long as Drogo’s had once been. Her body trembled with fear, she had hoped to never have to give her body away again, not like the way Viserys had sold her. But this was life or death and though she was leagues away from her council, her dragons, and her home, she still had a throne to win. 

He never spoke when he came to her. He only threw his things down, ripped his pants off and flipped her over. This time she had different plans. As he strode towards her she stood up, letting the thin sheet she had been laying under pool at her feet. His beady eyes trailed her, taking in her form greedily. She shivered and he grinned maliciously, taking it as pleasure.

She swallowed the bile slowly rising in her throat, finding her resolve. She gave him a coy smile, running her hands down her body. He rushed forward, gripping her hips tightly, making her wince from the bruises he had already left there time and time again. She ran her hand down his scarred chest and smiled. He picked her up throwing her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. He threw her down, her head banging against the headboard and she cried out.

She pushed past the pain as he tried to flip her not ready to give up on her plan just yet. She fought his strength and looked up at him. As she fought to be flipped over he grew angry and she saw the fist coming for her. 

“No, No!” She said in Dothraki. 

“Yes! I thought you had learned, whore!” He ground out and tried to flip her again. 

“No. My Khal, I only meant let me show you a different way.” 

“There is no different way for a Khal. Only like this, where I can ride you like the mule you are.” His lips stretched back against his teeth in a horrible smile. “Please, My Khal, if it is not to your liking I shall do whatever you ask.” 

“You will do whatever I ask no matter what.” 

She looked down, cursing herself mentally for running out of things to make her plan work. She steadied herself and took a deep breath before looking back up. She forced her eyes to show nothing but lust and admiration for this terrible man. 

“My Khal, my sun and stars.” Tears threatened to spring into her eyes and bile crept up her throat as she spoke the name she had given her beloved husband so long ago. “I only ask that you let me show you something, something I feel will make you happy. I only wish to please you my Khal, I only wish to serve you.” She licked her lips seductively. 

He looked curious now and after a few moment he nodded. And so just like with Drogo she pushed the Khal back gently and straddled his waist. As she mounted him his eyes narrowed at her, seeing who had the control in this position. She smiled reassuringly at the man and began to ride him. That night the Khal lost himself in her in a way he hadn’t before. She could see him letting his guard down, lost in her body, her weapon. 

Every night since then he had let his guard down more and more. He was still a cruel man, still a rapist and murderer. He still took girls when they came across villages and he still hit her whenever she disobeyed. But when the sun went down and he went into her tent she was in control, his guard always slipped away. 

When he came to her one night she had complained, as he was in the throes of passion and she had been crying out in the most believable ruse she could muster, that she did not think it was right of the guards outside to hear a queen and her cries of passion. As he crested over a mountain of pleasure and reached his peak the possessiveness a Khal feels over his bedwarmer hit its high and as he walked out that night she heard him swear to rip their hearts out if they were to stand outside while he visited her. 

And now another half-moon has past and Daenerys still sat atop a horse, alive and well and still plotting on how to make her way home. She had been relieved of the cuffs a fortnight ago and slowly the gruesome cuts she had acquired from the chains faded. The day was hot and her lips were cracked from months of sun exposure but she breathed in the dry air relishing in her life. She had made it this far in a khalassar ruled by a cruel Khal, she could make it home. 

As they rode through the Dothraki Sea she thought about Mereen and all of her loved ones she had left behind. She thought about Drogon and how she had been forced to leave him alone and injured in the mountains. She thought about Daario and how she missed his companionship. She even thought about Jorah and how he had betrayed her, been exiled from her city, and still found it in him to save her life. She thought that maybe if she were to find her way back to him again she would forgive him.

As the sun rose in the sky and the hot afternoon settled over her Daenerys drew back from the khalassar a bit to gaze at the landscape. A glare caught her eye and she reached her hand up to block her eyes. She stared around her trying to find a source. She had wandered over to the edge of the high grass sea. A gleam of metal flashed in her peripheral vision and she turned her head sharply. 

She thought about warning the Khal, but it might be nothing and she would rather not take a beating for wasting his time. She resolved to investigate the glare herself.

“I need to make water My Khal.” She called to him sweetly.

“I will guard the mule queen.” Mago laughed and tried to grab at her arm.

“No.” Khal Jhaqo growled at him and Mago looked at him stunned “If she runs she has nowhere to go. We will find her and I will give her a kiss from my blade.” He smiled at her with a masochistic gleam in his eye and she shivered. “You have three minutes, if you’re not back by then my arakh will find you.” She nodded her understanding dismounted from her horse stepping into the high grass fields. 

Once she was hidden from sight she took off running toward the area she had seen the gleam come from. She turned in circles trying to find her bearings, knowing she didn’t have much time. She felt desperation well up inside her and turned to walk back.

Then suddenly there was a hand around her mouth and a pair of lips at her ear. “Don’t scream.” The deep voice said.

She tensed and spun around wildly coming face to face with Jorah Mormont. Tears welled in her eyes and she flew at him. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

“My Queen, we have found you.” He breathed into her hair and she pulled back.

“We?” She asked and he nodded behind her.

She turned and there he was, Daario. She laughed carelessly and went to him kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I have missed you my queen.” He whispered to her.

“And I you, my sweet.” She smiled at him.

She realized then she didn’t have much time. If the Khal caught them here they’d be executed and her months of planning would be for naught. She had to hurry.

“I do not have much time. If they find you with me they will kill you.”

“My queen-“ Jorah started.

“No listen carefully. Follow the khalasar, we make camp at dusk. Tonight an hour passed when the sun goes down come to the smallest tent on the west side of the camp. I have gotten the Khal to take my guards away for that time period.” She resolved to not tell them now, there was no time.

She heard the Khal calling in the distance, her time was up. “There’s no time to explain but I’ve had a plan for months and now I can carry it out.” She turned to Daario and eyed his many daggers.

“Give me one of your daggers now, I have to go.”

He eyed her suspiciously and she heard hooves in the distance. “I am your Queen! Give it to me now Daario!” She seethed and he nodded once before handing her a dagger in a holster.

“I’ll see you all tonight. Remember an hour past, no sooner, and no later.” She said as she ran away.

As she ran she ripped a strip of cloth from her garb, looped it securely around the sheathed dagger and tied it high on her thigh. She tripped through the outskirts of the high grass and fell to the ground. The Khal was there at once looking at her suspiciously.

“You almost took too long mule Queen. What has you running from the sea?” He snarled and she flushed.

“T-there was a snake My Khal. I was terrified as it unhinged its jaw and tried to strike me. I ran to make it back to you, My Khal.” She stammered.

He stared at her for a moment and she forced herself to hold his gaze. Finally he nodded and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“The poor mule queen has been scared by a snake!” Mago shouted to the khalasar and they all laughed around her.

Mago came up to her atop his horse and grabbed her face roughly. He smiled before reaching down and groping her breast. “Don’t worry mule queen I can protect you.” He murmured sickeningly with a look of madness.

“Mago!” The Khal growled “No one is to touch a Queen but a Khal. Touch her again and I’ll have your hand.” He spat. Mago growled lowly and glowered at her before turning his horse around roughly and ridding off.

“Get back on your horse. You’re wasting our daylight with your womanly fears.” The Khal growled and she nodded.

They rode until dusk just as they had for days now. Where they were going she did not know, but now it didn’t matter. She would be leaving the Dothraki once again if her plan was carried out how she wanted.

She had no appetite for food so she resolved to wait in her tent for the Khal’s nightly visit. When she was sure no one was around to see her she untied the makeshift holster from her thigh and shoved it under the pillows. Then she set to pack up what little was allowed to her in her small abode. The sun was beginning to set as she finished washing her body off in the small basin of water they left her every night.

She laid naked on the bed as she had so many times before and waited. As the light shrank and sunk below the horizon her heart sped up from the nerves of what she was about to do. A few minutes later she heard the Khal outside the tent dismissing the guards and she took a deep steadying breath, pulling on the mask of lust she had mastered over the past few months.

He stepped through the tent flaps and his eyes immediately found her. A smile crossed his face and she shivered in disgust. She smiled nonetheless and began to touch her chest, sides and stomach. She smirked and crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to her. His eyes filled with desire and the power she had over him rushed through her.

He undressed as he crossed the tent and then he was on top of her kissing and suckling at her pale skin. She mewled softly in his ear and he shivered. Her nails ran down his chest and her hands found the patch of hair leading down to his hard length. He growled animalistic and low as she stroked him. He kissed her breasts and she cried out just like he liked.

Once she had distracted him enough she pushed at his shoulders and he laid on his back. She straddled his thighs and smiled lustfully down at him. She was so close to being done, to being free. She took him inside of her slowly and his head rolled back, his eyes shut tight. As she rode him, he slowly relaxed into her, trusting her, letting his guard down and falling into her trap.

She leaned forward, her hand on either side of his head, just below her hidden weapon. She rode harder and faster and he gripped her hips tightly. Her hand slipped higher unnoticed and she felt the cool metal of the hilt on her flesh. She grabbed it. His moans were at a crescendo and she could feel him beginning to pulse inside her. This was her only chance.

She cried out his name “Look at me as we lose ourselves together my Khal. Look at me as I serve you what you deserve.” His eyes flashed open, filled with desire.

He reached his peak then and cried out. As quick and agile as a dragon striking, she pulled her hand holding the dagger out and plunged it into his heart. The moan he released then was out of pain and not pleasure. She smiled at him serenely and ran a hand down his face.

She bent down by his ear her chest flushed against his. Her skin stained with his blood. “That was for Ereoh.” She whispered with a deathly sweet tone.

She twisted the knife and he coughed, blood spurting from his mouth “And that is for beating and raping a queen.”

The life was fading from his eyes as she pulled away. “You should have known better My Khal. The blood of the dragon runs through my veins and one way or another I always take what is mine with Fire and Blood.” She chuckled mirthlessly then and yanked the blade out of his chest. His body fell limp and she stared emotionlessly before grabbing his head by his braid and in one clean cut the braid fell to the ground.

There was rustling at the tent’s opening and she felt her heart leap into her throat. But then Jorah walked through and Daario was after him and she breathed a sigh of relief. They took in the scene of the Khal’s dead body, naked on the bed, and Daenerys with the dagger still clutched in her hands and her naked skin stained with his blood.

“Well don’t just stand there. We need to leave, once they find him it will be chaos. Jorah you know what happens when a Khal dies. We survived it one time, I doubt we’ll be so lucky as to survive it a second.” She said as she pulled her clothes on.

Jorah nodded and Daario still stood there staring at her with admiration. The adrenaline was pounding in Daenerys veins and they had no time to waste. She grabbed her small pack of things and walked to the back of the tent. She slashed it open with the dagger she still clutched and checked to make sure they were following her before stepping out.

The camp was alight with dancing, fires, and the sounds of Dothraki men mounting women. Daenerys instinctually dropped down to a crouching position and crept around the side of the tent. She peered into darkness and her heart stopped as she saw Mago walking towards her tent. She cursed and turned to her companions.

“We have to go now.” She whispered. She heard shouting from her tent and she cursed again. It was too late. The madness would begin now and if Mago found her he would kill her.

Mago stormed out of the tent and shouted at all of the khalasar. “The Khal is dead! The mule queen killed him as he shared her bed!” He roared and suddenly all of the men of the camp were in a frenzy.

People were killing left and right. A man with a curved bow shot at men while he took a woman from behind. Another man was bending over a decapitated corpse with a look of glee on his face. Jorah came up behind Daenerys and grabbed her arm. “We have to go, follow me my queen.” He turned to Daario “If something happens to me, get her out.” Daario nodded in understanding.

As they crept through the shadows, behind tents and in between them, Daenerys began to panic. All around them men, women and children were screaming and giving their final breaths. They rushed faster and faster weaving in and out trying to escape the death and destruction happening all around them. And then they turned a corner and Daenerys realized they would not make it out alive. Mago stood before her a look of pure rage taking over his features.

He screamed in anger and jumped forward, his arakh swinging down in an arch over his head. It was coming straight for her, it would cut through her head and her journey would be over. She knew she needed to move but she was frozen in fear. He was too fast but Daario was faster. It happened so fast. One minute she was staring death in the face and the next Daario’s black locks were clouding her vision.

The arakh was too fast and Daario was too head strong, thinking with his heart instead of his head. He never stood a chance. The blade swiped down his chest clean and quick and Daenerys cried out in despair. Daario stumbled once, then twice and then he was at her feet. She fell to her knees beside him and took his head into her lap. She looked up to see Mago’s malicious smile. He walked towards her but she had no will to move, to fight back, to avenge her lover.

Her raised the arakh is a wide arch once again but before he could follow through with his swing a longsword was shoved through his neck. Blood spurted across her face and she tasted it on her lips. Mago fell to his knees, drowning in his own blood. Finally he fell limp and Jorah stood behind him, pulling his sword from the Dothraki’s throat.

Daenerys looked down at Daario, her tears falling across her cheeks. He smiled up at her in a daze. She leaned down pressing her forehead to his. “Oh my sweet, why? Why did you do that?” She knew but she asked nonetheless.

He smiled at her “I swore my sword, life, and heart to you my queen. It has been yours since the day I met you.” He let out a rattling breath “I’m just… glad I got to give up my life for My Queen. It’s the only way…” He coughed hard and a death rattle resounded in his lungs. “It’s the only way I would’ve wanted to go.”

She drew back a bit and he reached up shakily, wiping her tears away. “Do not cry My Queen, for I will always be with you, as will my love. Always with you always…” He coughed harder and she kissed him then. She kissed him with blood on her lips and tears on her cheeks and when she had pulled away she found his eyes staring up into hers, no trace of life left in them.

She closed his eyes and moved his head from her lap. She looked up at Jorah with tears still falling and he looked at her with love and sympathy she couldn’t bear to look at. She stood up shakily.

“My queen we must-“Jorah was cut off by a screech breaking through the sounds of fighting and screaming men and women.

Daenerys would know that cry anywhere and her heart sped up. Suddenly people were crying in fear and screeches filled the night’s air. She could feel the heat of dragon fire from here.

“Drogon.” She whispered and fled towards the noise.

“My Queen! Wait, you musn’t!” He pleaded but she did not heed his words.

She rushed past bleeding men and countless bodies. She could see her child from where she stood but she needed to get closer. The dragon was currently burning the camp down, men and woman were fleeing the battle, no longer caring for titles or armies.

And then there was flapping overhead and a dark shadow crossed the land once more. Her heart stopped and a large beast came to land in front of her. His cream colored scales and golden trimmings were her salvation and she gasped in astonishment.

“Viserion” She whispered and moved forward. She reached toward him and he looked straight into her eyes. He sniffed at her hand and then pressed his nose to her hand and exhaled deeply.

Men around her were dying and the camp was quickly burning, the flames licking at her heels. She turned to the chaos suddenly realizing she had left Jorah and Daario’s body behind. She scanned the carnage, panic welling up in her chest. But her eyes found him, running towards her as he always was. Never away from her, always running to her. She knew then she could forgive him.

He struggled with Daario’s body and she saw what was going to happen before it did. She screamed out to warn him but it was too late. The tent he was rushing past collapsed in flames and wrapped itself around him. He dropped Daario’s body as he struggled out of the flames. She ran to him and Viserion cried out after her as it saying _“No don’t! Come back!”_ But she didn’t listen. She ran towards her bear. He had always been her big strong bear. She had lost Daario on this night and she refused to lose her bear too, not after everything he’d been through to make his way back into her good graces. Not after losing him once.

She reached him quickly and pulled on his arms as he struggled under a large plank of wood he had been wedged under. She yanked, pulled, pried and damn near pulled her shoulder out of socket trying to get her knight out. Tears once again found their way down her face. The flames were creeping up his legs quickly and she could see him resisting the urge to cry out in pain.

“Daenerys go. You can’t- Ahhh!” He screamed out and she moaned in despair. No not him too. Not today. “You can’t stay here; you must go.”

“I won’t leave you!” She screamed at him pulling at his arms harder than before.

Then suddenly Viserion was there and he was opening up his deadly mouth. His black dagger like teeth snapped around the wood, picked it up, and tossed it away as easy as if it were a rag doll. Daenerys pulled Jorah up and he cried out in pain again. They had to leave. Drogon was circling them in the sky so Daenerys resolved to ride Viserion.

She pulled Jorah with her supporting most of his weight. Viserion knew what she needed and lowered himself to the ground. Jorah gripped the dragon and pulled himself up swinging his charred leg over the beast. Daenerys climbed on in front of him and found her grip.

She leaned forward and shouted “Sōvegon!” ( _Fly!_ ) And then they were flying up and up, further and further in the sky. As she looked down upon the flaming camp she smiled. For once she had saved herself, more or less.

As they flew she questioned how Viserion had gotten away and if he had been set free did it mean her city had fallen? If her children had been released did that mean she would return to her pyramid to find her friends, and council members slaughtered?

Though all of these thoughts frightened her she had no control over any of it until they reached Mereen. As the wind whipped through her hair and her mind fell in a calm state only one question remained in her mind.

If Viserion had found Drogon and herself. If he had been released or had escaped from the tomb below the pyramid… Then where was Rhaegal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's Daenerys second experience with a Khalasar and her escape! I wonder where Rhaegal went? Hmm..;) Well maybe we'll find out next time! I'm back into my writing groove (I hope!) so that means more updates soon. For those of you who also enjoy Arya/Gendry I just posted a new story that will focus on them called "My Forest Love, Your Forest Lass". So check it out if you'd like! (shameless self promotion haha!) But anyways thanks for reading and don't forget to comment and tell me what you thought!   
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo


	7. The Lion's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Hello and welcome to another installment of ASOWAD! I know you guys had to wait a bit for this chapter so its a bit longer as a way of saying I'm sorry for sucking at updating lol! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Don't forget to review and as always thanks for reading!  
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo

# A Song of Wolves and Dragons

### The Lion's Den

Jon found himself in chambers unfamiliar to him. A canopied featherbed under his person and a fire roaring in the hearth across the room. A cool breeze drifted through the curtained exit to what could only be a balcony. He sat up in a whirlwind of confusion, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As the bedding fell from his body he realized he laid in the unknown bed unclothed.

His gaze flitted around the room. He was unnerved by the lack of remembrance of the room and uncomfortable with his undress in an unknown place. Something shifted in bed beside him and he jumped away in fear. The lump in the bed beside him sighed and drew its hand onto the taught muscles of his stomach. He squirmed away quickly as the lump moved to sit up and silver tresses fell against the pillows.

He sat speechless as the woman’s pink, plump lips drew back in a smile fit for a queen. Her lips moved but he could hear no words and as she moved closer to him he stayed still, frozen, watching her warily. Her high cheekbones, silver hair, and purple eyes called to his mind and tried to pull a memory from it. He had the answer on his lips, but before he could call her name he found her lips upon his in a heated kiss.

His eyes flitted closed for all but a second before he remembered himself. His eyes snapped opened finding black eyes a foot from his face, dragonfire in the air, and sharp teeth barred at him. The unfamiliar chamber he had found himself in when he’d awoken was no longer around him, and the woman who had purple eyes and silver hair had turned into a great dragon with scales of bronze and green. As he opened his mouth to scream, the dragon beat him to the action and screeched into the fire driven air.

“I will come for you” a deep grating voice leapt from the dragon’s mouth and Jon scrambled back, fell into flames and screamed into the waking realm.

When Jon shot out of bed drenched in sweat, a gasp choking him, he found no dragons or silver haired women. He instead found the quiet comfort of his chamber’s aboard _The First Sword_. He swung his legs over the edge of the cot he slept on and dragged the palm of his hand across his damp forehead. The continuous rock of the ship eased his nerves and he got up out of bed seeking his daily garb.

The weeks aboard the ship had done little for Jon’s anxiety and as they crept closer to the docks of King’s Landing he regretted more and more his choice of allowing Melisandre to name him King. He had found distraction and a bit of solace in working among the crew members, learning the ways of running a ship. And he had found companionship in parrying with blunted swords against Ser Davos, who he had learned was an honorable man as Jon’s Uncle had been.

Though the days had been abundant with work and training the nights had been less kind. He dreamed often of dragons and they’re ominous screeches. But he more often dreamt of her. He dreamt of her silver hair and purple eyes that had a likeness to someone he couldn’t quite place. Sometimes he dreamt of them on the back of one of the dragon’s, and sometimes he dreamt of her on her back writhing under him in a heat unlike any he’d ever felt and he woke with a stiffness between his legs.

Jon dragged himself into the soft light of early morning seeking the soft sea breeze to calm his nerves. He gripped the edge of the ship with tight hands feeling the welling of anxiousness in his chest. He knew they’d reach land soon and he would face uncharted territory and place his feet on enemy soil. His jerkin felt tight against him and he drew heavy breaths.

He hung his head between his shoulders starring down below into the sapphire water. He thought on his mother in times like these now. He thought of her wishes as well as his own. How he only wished for peace of the kingdoms, justice for his Uncle Ned and for all the cousins… No, siblings, he had lost in this war of kings, and perhaps an Aunt to teach him all the things he never knew about his true House. No matter who had brought him into this world he had grown with the Stark children and refused to sully their memory with false titles. They were his sibling’s all the same.

He was shocked from thought when a hand touched his shoulder. He jerked and turned on his heel finding the eyes of the person who had pulled him away from his own mind. He found red eyes and a smile that was more a smirk and he sighed to himself.

“You are not pleased to see me Your Grace?” Melisandre asked in a quiet tone her gaze burning into him.

He shook his head at her insistence upon calling him the titles of king’s and turned back to the sea, staring into the horizon, seeing the first blemishes of land a half a day’s sail away. His brow furrowed and he glanced back to her.

“What land are we to happen upon there in the distance? We aren’t to come to King’s Landing until tomorrow evening.”

“That is why I have come to you My King. The captain has said we made better time than he’d hope. We will dock by mid-afternoon. We are expected to leave ship at once, they must take more passengers as well as goods and there is little room left for us. The captain wishes to speak to you on the matter.” Jon had already begun to walk away at that point.

Nervous energy coursed through him and a slight annoyance caught him in it grasp. He knew the captain was not at fault, business was business and Jon had no claim to any space on his ship, but the prospect of spending a full day in the heart of his enemies lands left him sweaty and uneasy at best.

He found Captain Nicolai in his quarters below deck. Jon knocked and then walked into the quarters after Nicolai answered with a faint ‘Come in’. The Captain was a stout, bravosi with a thick accent, warm, kind eyes, and greying hair. He had greatly accepted Jon’s help around the ship and had never asked any questions that pried too deep into Jon’s plans.

Captain Nicolai turned at Jon’s entrance and smiled warmly before nodding to a chair in front of his desk.

“Take a seat my boy.” Jon strode briskly to the seat and sat heavily.

“I am told we will reach King’s Landing early.”

“You were told correct. I’m confident you heard I cannot accommodate you and your…friends once we reach the city.” He struggled with the words, his eyes never quite settling on Jon.

“I have heard, while I’m not happy about being discarded too soon, I can hardly blame you. You have business to do and I have no coin to offer in exchange for another nights room and feed.”

“Yes, yes, business it is. Of course.” The man tittered anxiously still not meeting Jon’s eyes.

Jon zeroed in on The Captain skimming over his beady nervous eyes and the sheen of sweat breaking across his forehead.

“There is something you keep from me Captain?” Jon asked nonchalantly and watched for any signs of discomfort in the man.

His posture showed nothing but a man at ease on his ship, but his eyes showed nerves and distrust. Jon sat back in his seat and lifted and eyebrow in question.

“My Lord forgive me, for I know who you are and know who will look for you when you come ashore.”

In an instant Jon was at his feet and a dagger was at the other man’s throat. “Now tell it and tell it true Captain, did you sell me out? Tell my enemies of my arrival?”

The older man struggled his hand raising in a motion of surrender and his eyes bugged out. “My Lord no of course not! Unfortunate happenstance is all My Lord, I only wish to protect my crew, my ship, and my boy, my youngest and last boy My Lord. If the Queen were to find out I travel a threat to the crown…” He trailed off miserably and Jon withdrew the dagger nodding in ascent.

“Forgive me, my mind betrays the trust in your loyalty. I’ve no sons, no ship, and no crew but I understand your need for safety for them all. I once had family too.” He gave a sad smile.

“Your Lady Mother was a beauty if there ever was one My Lord, and your Lord Uncle the most honorable of men, may the seven bless their souls.” The captain bowed his head solemnly and Jon clasped his shoulder in thanks.

After a moment of silence Jon’s brain started to work all the things out Captain Nicolai had said and his brow furrowed in anger once more.

“You said you know of who awaits me ashore? You know I am Jon Targaryen. How is it that you know these things?” He spoke in a rush but not unkindly.

The man hesitated but found Jon’s eyes after a few moments “There have been ravens sent far and wide to many ship captains. Word has spread of a young Jon Snow claiming himself a king in the cold reaches of the wall. There has been a lordship offered for your head.”

Jon took a deep breath. He had known this world happen, that the crown would send cutthroats, assassins and knights of all sorts in search of his head. He just hadn’t expected it so fast and couldn’t fathom how word had spread so fast. Then Jon bowed his head in disappointment at the realization that a traitor brother had slipped through his fingers and whispered secrets into the enemy’s ear.

“I suppose I should thank you for throwing me out instead of taking my head then shouldn’t I?” Jon jested lightly and The Captain gave a hearty chuckle.

“No thanks needed my boy. I am sorry for leaving you to your devices though. Will you accept a small amount of coin for your work on my ship? Just enough to get you room and food for the night.”

Jon thought on it and eventually nodded grudgingly knowing the old captain wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jon left the cabin with a pocketful of small silver coins and a sense of wariness blanketed over his person. He found Ser Davos on the deck working the ropes of the ship with the crewmen and pulled him aside to share his news and strategize. When he had finished telling Davos about his visit with the captain Davos turned to the water and stared hard at the sky.

“If The Captain tells it true they have no knowledge of us landing on their lands. We have but one night to wait and enough coin for a room to hole ourselves up in until the next ship we take docks.” Ser Davos tried to be reasonable but Jon saw straight through him.

“But if one of these men decide to sell their knowledge to the crown all is lost Ser. You and I both know it. What are an onion knight and a night’s watchman turned Targaryen against a queen with a retinue at her command.”

“You forget you have a red priestess as well My King.” A sensual voice called from behind them.

Jon did not bother turning to Melisandre “If you could wield a sword instead of flames we still would be three against thousands My Lady.”

She gave a soft almost mocking laugh “I speak not of sword wielding only of your trust in my word. You will make it to Mereen My King.” She came to stand on his right side.

They all gazed out towards the shores of King’s Landing and thought on what awaited them ashore. By the time midday had rolled around Jon had run through thousands of outcomes and made himself sick with worry of failing. He left his two companions on the deck and headed below to ready his few belongings. He pulled his boiled leather armor over his jerkin and strapped his sword around his waist.

He sat at his small table wedged in between the cot and the wall and ate what little he could stomach. Jon hoped for a safe room in a small unassuming Inn, a safe journey among another crew of men, and the acceptance of this silver queen across the sea that had been named his own blood. He longed for the godswood at Winterfell in time like these. He longed for a heart tree to kneel before and the whispering of the old gods answering his prayers. But he had been a long ways from home for years and had no intention of returning there without an army at his back.

Jon missed home though, he missed his family and the wolves and the always warm walls of Winterfell. He miss Robb and Sansa, Bran and baby Rickon, and Arya, yes he missed Arya most of all. He didn’t let himself think about his baby sister often, always trying to escape the dull stab of pain in his chest when her name flitted up from the depths of his mind. If she was alive did she think on him with this mixture of fondness and pain too? If she was alive did she still have the slight sword he had given her the day he walked away from it all? He hoped she would, if not for the memory of him than to keep herself safe and alive.

Jon blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. " _You’re a Targaryen, a man, and by all rights of the realm a King and yet you cry_ " He half scolded himself. He drew himself up from the chair and found the looking glass on the far side of the room. His hair had grown long from days at sea and now hung past his shoulder in black ringlets. His body was still well toned, his nose and cheek structure still resembling his uncle’s, but when he sought his eyes in the reflection he inhaled sharply. Although still brown they now were rung with a soft lilac color that pulled forth a sort of pride in him.

Jon stood straighter as he tucked the knowledge of his slight Targaryen look into his mind for a later examination. He pulled his sack of his few belongings onto his back, pulled on his traveler’s cloak, and stepped out of the room ready for whatever King’s Landing would throw at them.

When the ship docked two hours past midday Jon did not hesitate in getting off the ship. He shook hands with Captain Nicolai and nodded to all the crewmen and proceeded to walk down the boardwalk without another word. He drew up the hood of his cloak to hide his face and nodded at Ser Davos and Lady Melisandre to do the same. They had officially entered The Lion’s Den.

They found a quiet, unassuming inn in the heart of the city and paid for a nights rest and a meal of brown stew and a crust of bread. They ate quietly not daring to speak of anything in a territory so dangerous. There were only three other patrons in the Inn. A woman with greying hair and a slight hump and two soldiers in crimson cloaks. Jon kept a close eye on them.

After they had finished eating they walked up to their room and barred the door behind them. The room was small and only held two small cots and a chair and table. A window was to the right of the bed furthest from the door and Jon moved to stand near it. He peered through into the rumblings of the city and found an uneasiness settle over him.

He shook himself quite literally and continued to peer at the hustle of the city below. Gold cloaks were abundant, but seemed to be doing nothing of particular interest. People swerved in and out of the streets some begging, some bartering.

“You two rest. I’ll keep watch.” Jon said without turning to his two companions.

“Forgive me My King but I have matters to attend to while we’re in this city.” Melisandre spoke softly from behind him and he turned sharply to face her.

“And what matters would that be My Lady?”

“Just want to drift through and see what I can learn about the kingdoms, mayhaps procure a bit of coin for our travels. Is that okay Your Grace?” Her eyes burned with fire.

He stared her down with a stern gaze and she met her gaze unflinching “I’m sure I needn’t remind you what should happen if you betray my trust Lady Melisandre.”

She had the grace to look shocked at his words “My King?” she furrowed her brow at him.

He sighed and turned back to the window “Fine. On with you then, keep your hood up and don’t draw too much attention. Be back by nightfall or I will assume you have fled. I shan’t say what will happen then, My Lady.”

“Of course, My King. I am yours to command. I will be back soon. Ser Davos, protect our king should anything happen.”

Jon heard Ser Davos grunt “I don’t need your command to protect My King, woman.” Davos called out to the Lady but she had already fled.

“Your Grace?” Ser Davos called to Jon.

Jon turned toward the knight and gave a small smile. “I told you to call me Jon in the absence of Lady Melisandre.”

Ser Davos chuckled lightly “Of course. I only wondered if I might go downstairs to have a drink or two Your…Jon I mean.” The knight stumbled over his titles and turned red at the collar in embarrassment.

“Only if I may join you? I fear I don’t enjoy the idea of our small party strewn about the city.” The knight smiled and nodded so they both left the room and headed down the stairs into the Inn’s dining area.

Neither of them were well in their cups when the sun finally swung below the horizon line. They had sat stiffly with eyes peeled unable to relax no matter how much wine they consumed. Jon got to his feet quickly a half hour past sundown. He sighed heavily and turned to Ser Davos.

“It well past sundown and she hasn’t returned. I have to go see if she lingers in the city or if she truly left.” Davos nodded grimly.

“Yes of course. Let us go then.” Jon nodded and the knight got to his feet.

The streets were dark but not quite empty yet. Whore houses teemed with life and drunkards struggled through the streets. Gold Cloaks walked here and there keeping their posts unless needed to “intervene” in tavern fights or aid the need of a pretty whore. Jon and Ser Davos kept aware even with their cloaks above their heads and their eyes on the ground.

All seemed well as they weaved in and out of streets and alleyways. There had been no sign of Melisandre thus far and they had only come across Gold Cloaks and the occasional drunkard. They reached a cross road and Jon turned to Ser Davos.

“We have to go back. There’s no sign of her, she must have fled or she could’ve already made it back to the Inn. We’ll search for her at first light if she hasn’t returned by then.” He lowered his voice then so it was only a breath of words spoken for Davos’s ears only “The streets are dead with the exception of Gold Cloaks every 100 yards. We cannot stay out here.”

Davos’s eyes looked beyond him and he turned to see Melisandre standing in the shadows of The Great Sept of Baelor that loomed up behind them. His breath left his chest in a rush as his eyes zeroed in on the steps of The Great Sept. Jon’s knees weakened and every action slowed around him. There was just him and the steps of the sept. He stared hard at the steps seeing His uncle… No his father in every sense of the term. Jon found himself on his knees, his eyes screwed shut as his mind was assaulted with images of Eddard Starks head rolling down the great steps, blood splattering the light stone, Ice clattering to the ground and Sansa and Arya screaming.

Jon’s head spun in and his chest was on fire. He felt the wet tears draw tracks down his cheeks. His hands found the cobbles of the road and he clutched desperately. The imagined pictures that had haunted his dreams took place 100 yards away from him at least. Ned Stark’s last breaths had been taken there, his sister’s hope and freedom had been taken there, his family had unraveled here and he had been leagues away at a frozen wall with people he called brothers while his real family had needed him.

He groaned in pain finally taking a well-deserved breath and the fire ebbed in his chest. As his senses rolled back to him he realized a few things all at once. One being that Ser Davos had kneeled beside him trying to get Jon to look at him, the other being that Melisandre still stood in the shadow of The Great Sept and she was calling something towards him.

The words coming from her lips reached Jon’s ears in a watery bubble of confusion. The words swirled around him as if spoken underwater but he could make out two distinct words. “My King” She called and he rushed to quiet her.

But then Ser Davos leapt to his feet and drew his sword and Jon knew he was too late, he would die just as Ned Stark had, a traitor. Suddenly the three companions were surrounded by fifteen Gold Cloaks. Jon stood quickly, the weakness of heartache fleeing in the face of danger.

He kept a hand on the pommel of his sword and nodded to Ser Davos to lower his steel. Lady Melisandre found his other side quickly and bowed her head in an apologetic manor. Jon turned to the several armed men that circled him and smiled.

“Is there something myself and my companions can help you with gentlemen?”

One of the men stepped forward, a hulking mass of muscle and eyes sharp as nails “We have been commanded to retrieve Jon Snow and deliver him to the queen. Seems the bastard thinks himself a king.” The men chuckled around him and Jon nodded a small smirk playing at his lips.

“What a shame. You would think bastards would learn their place.”

“Aye you would, but you can’t expect much from northerners. The cold freezes the blood from going to the brain. I suppose the boy caught the worst of it freezing at that bloody wall.” The man leered at him a knowing look in his eye as his gaze found Melisandre. _So,_ Jon thought to himself _they know the red woman travels with me._

Jon laughed openly and loudly before staring straight face at the man before him. He chuckled lightly once more “I wasn’t speaking of myself, I was speaking of the Queen and her brood of bastards. You would think she would learn.” He laughed again before plucking a dagger from his belt and tossing it gracefully into the large man’s heart.

The man stumbled once, twice, then fell to his knees as blood spluttered from his lips. The gold Cloaks were up in arms in a matter of seconds and Jon withdrew the dagger from the man’s chest and handed it to Melisandre turning to her red eyes that were alight with amusement.

“Use it to defend yourself My Lady. Try to stay near one of us.”

“Of course My King.”

And then Jon turned and met the onslaught of men with Ser Davos at his side. He turned his body to the side narrowly missing the first lunge of battle. Then everything was a blur of movement and strategy. Lunging right and left, ducking and rolling. Jon saw Davos take a heavy blow to his calve from across the pavilion and resisted the urge to call out. Numbers were dwindling quickly as Jon slashed this way and that. He felt the adrenaline in his veins, felt victory draw near. He felt a flash of hope, they would make it out of this, and they could do this. Then Jon’s hopes were dashed in one fowl swoop of men. The remaining five men became twenty as Gold Cloaks filed in from all directions and circled the three of them. Ser Davos had taken a few injuries, none life threatening, but would need to be seen to. Melisandre on the other hand still gleamed in red though not in the red of blood, and a fire burned angry and desperate in her eye as she found him. He glanced down at himself to find a small wound just above his collarbone.

He smiled reassuringly at her and turned back to the circling foe and then the crossroad was a rush of movement again. There was five men on him at once and several pushing his companions back, separating them. He ducked under a sword that would’ve taken his head had he not moved and stumbled around the man before shoving a sword in his back. He circled around swiftly drawing his sword down the spine of another man and his dagger found the eye of the next.

Then there was a hot flash of pain from the back of his legs to the middle of his back and he staggered before falling onto the hard cobblestones. He groaned in pain as someone kicked him until he rolled onto his back. He cried out in agony as the rough ground found the wound that was dripping sticky blood all over his back and legs.

A tall dark figure stood over him with a sadistic smile. Jon felt the tip of a sword at his throat and he swallowed cringing back into the hard stone. He found Ser Davos across the way on his hands and knees, his head bowed in acceptance of defeat. Lady Melisandre was unharmed and stood surrounded by Gold Cloaks yet she had a triumphant smile on her face and Jon let his eyes find the night’s sky.

She was triumphant in revealing me, triumphant in winning my trust, and now I will die because I was too much of a fool to send the witch packing. He closed his eyes and heard the man above him speak in a cruel tone.

“Say hello to your wolf bitch of a mom and your dragon prince father for me pretty boy. And tell dear old Ned, the Lannister’s send their regards.” The man chuckled gleefully and raised his sword to strike.

Jon shut his eyes tight and waited for the cool kiss of steel to meet his throat. He waited, and he waited, and then there was a roaring noise if the distance. Jon’s eye popped open to find all the Gold Cloaks and his two companions staring off in the direction of the noise.

“Captain? Should we go and check it out?” A boy of no more than eight and ten called to the burly man that stood above Jon.

There was another horrifying screech and a constant thrumming sound filled the city. The man above Jon shook his head and wiped the sweat from his brow “It’s nothing of importance I’m sure. We have some traitors to tend to.”

They all nodded and turned back to their captives but before they could strike the head from Jon’s body a warm orange color took to the nights sky cresting over Rhaeneys’ Hill and a deathly screech sounded again.

Jon watched in amazement as the gentle, rhythmic thrumming grew closer and the ribbons of fire took to burning the buildings that lined the streets. Then chaos erupted.

“Dragon!” The captain called and Jon used this distraction to sweep the man’s sword away from his throat. Jon rolled away as gracefully as possible and tried to stand only to find a tight pain in his legs and sticky blood coursing down his thighs. He knelt to pick up his sword to use it as a crutch of some sort.

The city was awash with flames and a lumbering, scaly beast circled the sky above his head. He watched the animal in amazement finding he couldn’t muster up a bit of fear in the wake of this beast that found its home on his House’s banner. The dragon screeched again, stretching its wings and drifting towards the flames. It circled three times and then crashed to the ground a mere ten feet from Jon.

The beast found men beneath its feet and sent a roaring flame to silence the screams of the struggling Gold Cloaks. The dragon screeched with something akin to glee and with a slight pluck pulled a man’s head from his shoulders and swallowed it down. Jon shuddered in disgust as the Dragon sought Gold Cloak after Gold Cloak twisting and tearing them until they no longer resembled a man at all.

Jon stood in a mix of horror and amazement until the beast turned it eyes to him. Jon tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t work and instead he stumbled back. As the dragon peered at him curiously Jon could finally see he had scales of green and bronze and he gasped in shock. The dragon from his dreams had found him just as he promised he would and Jon laughed out loud.

The beast lumbered to stand right by Jon’s face and bent towards him. Jon did not even flinch and bent towards the beast to meet him halfway. Jon’s forehead found the Dragons and only then did all the tension flee from Jon’s body. The Dragon sighed in a fiery breath of what Jon could only take for contentment. Then Jon was on his feet again and the dragon was peering into his eyes trying to tell him something.

Jon’s body wracked with pain as his consciousness slipped from man to beast and he saw himself standing feet below his perspective with his eyes rolled back into his head. “ _Ride, Father_ ” a voice whispered in his own head and he gasped jerking back into his own body. He peered up at the Dragon that had been him only mere seconds before and his head spun with confusion and the loss of blood.

Jon circled the dragon slowly as it knelt to accommodate Jon’s height. He climbed carefully, not wanting to offend or harm the dragon and when he finally sat upon, him the dragon nodded in ascent and his wings unfurled into the night’s sky. One minute he was on the ground and the next the city was scorched and burning yards below them. Jon wanted to sit up, to enjoy the feeling of riding a dragon, something no one had done in centuries, but the loss of blood and the pain of his injuries forced him down as the adrenaline ebbed off. He laid with his forehead pressed to the dragons green scales and his hands clutching at the thick spikes of its skin. He fell in and out of consciousness, barely registering the sea below them. He felt the pain everywhere, from his toes to his fingertips and he felt the blood too, dried in copious amounts across his back, thighs, and calves.

The dragon kept a steady thrum of its wings as they soared over oceans, islands, and ships alike. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the air, or how long he had been bleeding, or how much longer he’d last. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days when the dragon finally stopped and perched upon a dimly lit surface. He shook slightly to rouse Jon. Jon tried to sit up only to fall from the dragon onto a cool hard surface. He yelled in pain and prayed to the Old Gods he wasn’t in a dangerous place.

Then light filtered into the small space and he saw he was outside, elevated somewhat and that the dragon perched on a slanted wall facing staring curiously down at him. He heard a womanly gasp from above him and he tried to turn to find the culprit of making such a lovely sound, but found he was too weak to do anything but breathe.

“Rhaegal?! What have you done?” A voice like a song flitted to his ears and he sighed in contentment though it sounded more like a cry of pain and he wondered if he might die here listening to the most beautiful voice he had ever heard and never be able to see the face it belonged to.

As soon as that thought had reached his mind a pair of purple eyes were above him and silver tresses fell over his like a curtain. She looked worried and her hands flitted about him trying to find the source of the blood. She looked up at the dragon again and looked as if she might cry.

“You stupid child of mine. You run off only to bring me a man half dead.” She chuckled with a knot of tears in her throat and turned back to Jon who was just starting to put the pieces together in his head and he laughed with her.

He laughed loudly and fully and would’ve bent at the ribs to catch his breath had he been able to move at all. She looked at him as if he were mad and pushed the hair back from his eyes.

The laughing had worn him out and his breath came short now and the visage of beauty before him swirled and faded in and out. “Why are you laughing? Why have you come here? What’s your name?” She asked quietly and peered at him curiously.

And then Jon just laughed again, pushed the silver tresses back behind her ear with a bloody hand and said “Jon Targaryen, at your service, Your Grace.” Then the rightful King of Westeros took a shallow breath and fell out of consciousness beneath his Queen Aunt and a Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's chapter seven and the long awaited meeting of Jon and Dany. *Hides behind a rock* Please don't hurt me for the cliffhanger! I just had to! I promise Jon will be okay if that will help soothe your worries! You guys are awesome and I hope I did this justice. Next chapter will be loaded with Jon and Dany in the same space and actually talking and all that good stuff! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!  
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo


	8. The Last Two Targaryens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I hope everyone had a great past few months! How were your holidays? I hope they were great! But Hey! Chapter 8 has arrived! You all thought I had deserted you huh? Have a little faith, I just couldn't seem to get this chapter right and its still a little iffy in my opinion. I figured you all had waited long enough though so I threw my ass into gear to crank this out and tried to make it as good as possible so I hope you all enjoy it. Also if anyone out there has been playing Undertale see if you can find the reference in the chapter ;) Anyways Thanks everyone for every comment, kudo, bookmark and hit they all keep me going as a writer and I can't express how much it all means to me. You all rock! Well on with the chapter, drop a kudo or a comment and tell me what you thought! Thanks as always for reading  
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo

                Jon shifted from an unconscious state to a state of hazy consciousness several times after passing out. The first time he had been awake only a few seconds, long enough to see a man with a long scar across his face, before dropping out again. The second time he couldn’t focus past the searing pain in his back long enough to take in his surroundings. Before he could cry out in pain a cool liquid was being forced down his throat and darkness found him again.

                The third time two voices pulled him from the deep sleep. One voice was high and clear, a woman’s voice, while the second was a familiar low voice with a quick wit. He listened to the voices trying to figure out where they were, where he was, and if he was in danger or not. He tried to open his eyes but found himself too drowsy to do so.

                “He called himself a Targaryen.” The woman’s voice said with an annoyed edge.

                “Yes you’ve said that at least seven times now Your Grace.” The man’s voice called back with a sarcastic tone.

                “I am not in the mood for your japes and sarcastic wit today Lord Lannister.” The woman sneered.

                The man sighed from somewhere inside the room “I have no knowledge of the boy having Dragon blood Your Grace, he was a Snow and a mere lad the last I saw him.”

                The woman huffed and Jon felt eyes upon him “And if he is? A Targaryen I mean. If he has a better claim? What then My Lord?”

                “Then we throw him to Drogon and be done with it. The boy has no army and certainly no dragons. It just so happens that _we_ have both.” The man chuckled and Jon fought harder to open his eyes.

                “I can’t just kill my own blood Tyrion. He might very well be the last besides me…” The woman spoke softly, sadly even, and Jon felt the sudden urge to go to her, but stopped short as he put the two names the man had been called together. _Tyrion fucking Lannister_.

                “You thought the same of Viserys and yet you didn’t stop your beloved Khal from frying his head like some nice crispy bacon.”  The woman exhaled angrily almost growling at the man, at _Tyrion_ , and then a door was slammed and Jon fell back into darkness.

                The fourth time Jon actually opened his eyes. He found he was in a small chamber, only the barest of necessities in the room. He was surprised he had not found himself in a cell, rotting away with infection. He sat up out of the sick bed slowly and his head spun. His back cried out in protest, the skin tight and stiff but the pain bearable. He tried to move his legs but found they were heavy and leaden. He felt around his back and found the bandages wrapped around his midsection. He felt under his legs and found two small wrappings around the right leg, but the other was unharmed.

                He swung the uninjured leg off the bed and searched for his sword. It was nowhere to be found and he cursed. If he lost that sword he would never forgive himself and he was sure the Old Bear would haunt his damn dreams. He moved the heavy leg with his hands and swung his body so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took a few deep breaths trying to will the pain away. After a few minutes he braced his hands on the table beside his bed and pushed up using his left leg mostly.

                After he had stood halfway he almost blacked out from the pain and the drowsiness. He pushed through the hazy feeling and stood with his body draped over the table, his arms supporting his mid-section. When the fogginess cleared from his head and the pain had ebbed slightly he stood fully. His first steps almost left him sprawling on the ground, but he caught himself on the desk by the wall. He hobbled slowly using whatever he could reach to steady himself. When he finally reached the door his face dripped with sweat, his back was tight and aching and his leg was almost useless and was filled with pain.

                He pulled the door open only to come face to face with a queer dressed guard. He had dark skin and dark hair that curled around his ears. His eyes were piercing and he shoved Jon back towards the room with the end of his staff.

                “In.” The guard said in a thick tongue.

                “I wish to see Daenerys.” Jon said but hastily added. “Please.”

                If the guard had heard Jon he made no attempt at acknowledging him. Instead he pushed at Jon again. “In.” He said again.

                It became abundantly clear the Guard did not speak the common tongue and Jon sighed and leaned against the door, prepared to wait for someone who understood him. Jon stood at the open door until his legs gave out and then he sat against the door frame. The guard stood to the side of the door and stared straight ahead at the wall of the hallway. Jon took deep steadying breaths as his stomach turned from overexerting himself.

                “I see you really are just like your father, stubborn and too proud to rest after injury.” A voice said from beside him and Jon’s eyes snapped open. A small man with stunted legs and a scar from lip to nose to cheek. Jon smiled up at the halfman and got to his feet sluggishly.

                “Tyrion, what a welcome surprise. What brings you to Mereen?”

                “Queen Daenerys finds you bleeding out on her balcony and _you_ want to ask _me_ what I’m doing in Mereen? Jon Snow I dare say you suffered a head injury as well.”

                Jon laughed but reeled in the laughter when shooting pains went up his back. He grimaced “What can I say? I’ve always been a curious lad and if it please you Tyrion its Jon Targaryen now.”

                “Ah yes, my dear queen is as confused as I am to how you figure yourself a Targaryen.”

                Jon’s head clouded and spun. He staggered past the dwarf to the small table and sat gently in the chair, carefully angling his injured leg and back out of harm’s way.

                “I’m afraid it’s a long, grueling, and slightly unbelievable story, My Lord. If you would please sit.” Jon gestured weakly to the chair opposite him.

                Tyrion nodded but walked to the door and spoke to the guard in a foreign tongue before shutting the door behind him and waddling over to the chair. He sat back and looked at Jon expectantly.

                Jon folded his hands on top of the table and leaned forward as much as he could without stressing the closed wound on his back.

                “First off, what do you know about my injuries? Will I heal or will it leave me with a limp?”

                “As far as I know as long as you rest and let yourself heal you should be as good as new. Well with a few new scars to tell the tale of course. You were very lucky, the maester said. If you wouldn’t have been found when you were, you’d be as good as dead.”

                Jon sighed in relief at how lucky he had gotten. Sure he’d be out of commission for some time but at least he wouldn’t be forever crippled and unable to fight.

                “Now onto your story. Why are you here Jon?”

                “If I’m going to tell you all of this you have to promise me one thing.” Jon cast his eyes down at the table.

                “You’re not really in any position to be making deals, but I’ll humor you Jon Snow. What is it you ask of me?”

                “You will not comment until the end of my story is over and if I get to the end and you decide I tell it true you will _try_ to convince Her Grace to keep me around. Despite all that I’m about to say I’m here to help her take the throne, not take it from her.”

                “Well I can certainly try, but Her Grace is more headstrong than most, it’s the dragons blood in her.” Tyrion laughed and Jon smirked.

                “Don’t I know it.” He chuckled and then he launched into the story of his birth, death, and rebirth.

                To Tyrion’s credit he didn’t say a word despite the incredulous look plastered on his face for the last half hour of the story. When Jon spoke of his dragon dreams (omitting the part where he dreamt of bedding his Aunt of course) Tyrion nearly swallowed his tongue with how deeply he inhaled in shock.  When Jon had finally finished the room was eerily quiet for a few minutes as Tyrion processed everything he had just heard.

                Then suddenly Tyrion was chuckling, then laughing, then howling as Jon sat there and stared at him as if he had sprouted the head of a direwolf.

                Tyrion calmed slightly but still shook with quiet laughter “Ahh dear old Ned Stark so honorable he ironically gave up his honor to foster you as his bastard. Even when I think I have it all figured out the universe still throws revelations my way. Well Jon Targaryen as farfetched as your story is, I knew you as a boy and I know you still, and I know you’re too simple to concoct that whole story on your own.”

                Jon visibly relaxed “But” Tyrion continued and Jon straightened up again “The queen will need more convincing. My word will not be enough for something of this caliber I’m afraid.” Tyrion stood and Jon got to his feet slowly nearly collapsing at the renewed pain in his back. The room spun and threated to fall away and he grasped the back of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.

                “It’s time for some more milk of the poppy I see. Let me fetch the maester and some kitchen girls to bring you some food. If you want to recover you must take care of yourself diligently.” He went to turn and Jon shook his head clear of the pain.

                “My Lord if you would ask my aunt to visit as well. If she isn’t busy of course, I fear resting will not come easily until I make sure I won’t lose my head as I sleep.”

                Tyrion smiled crookedly and nodded before waddling out of the door and past the guard. Jon sighed heavily and sat back onto his pillows carefully. He leaned his head back against the wall behind the bed and closed his eyes. He missed Ghost terribly during moments like these when he needed someone to vent to. He missed the wolf’s patient stare and worrying demeanor when Jon was hurt. Jon’s chest burned with effort it took to not break down.

                What had he gotten himself into? He could’ve lived without the knowledge of his parentage for a thousand years and still been happy at the frozen tundra that was the wall with his sword, his battle plans, and his wolf, but instead honor and responsibility called. Now here he was across leagues of land and sea from the north and without a companion or friend to call his own. He ran his hands through his curls nervously and sighed once more.

                He fell asleep like that, his head thrown back uncomfortably and his back searing in pain against the pillows. He slept without getting rest, dreams of dragonfire and war plagued him still as he slumbered.  When he awoke again he started to get annoyed with the lack of windows in the room, for he had no idea what time of day it was or even what day it was for that matter. He sighed and kept his eyes closed, his arm thrown across his face.

                “I see you’re finally awake again. The maester must have given you quite a bit of milk of the poppy.” A high and clear voice called out from somewhere to his right.

                Her jerked out of bed suddenly, forgetting his injuries and almost crashing to the floor. The person to his right got up swiftly and pressed their cold hands onto his shoulders nudging him back towards the head of the bed.

                “Now that was quite a stupid thing to do. Please don’t injure yourself further, we have much to discuss.” He looked up at her and unsurprisingly found violet eyes and silver hair.

                He nodded and moved back to the head of the bed carefully “Forgive me, My Lady. I seem to be a bit on edge, but also terribly confused from the medicine.”

                She nodded at him and took her seat at the table once more. “Lord Tyrion had an awful lot to tell me about your journey.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

                He nodded at her “Aye My Lady, I tell it true. Unfortunate happenstance, but necessary nonetheless, I suppose.”

                The Dragon Queen chuckled “So you expect me to believe Rhaegar is your father? That you are of my blood? Not only that, but that you were killed and resurrected. I have no more than hearsay to go off of right now Jon Snow. I will not be played for a fool no matter how close you are with my advisor Lord Lannister.”

                Jon’s face fell at that. If he couldn’t convince her to trust him all would be lost, but how to prove his parentage without witnesses of his past? He could argue that the dragon found him of all people and protected him as well, but it wasn’t good enough. She would need staggering proof, something he’s not sure he had.

                And then his healed scars started to burn. A reminder of the life his brothers of the night’s watch took from him, and one Melisandre restored. He chuckled at the realization.

                “What are you laughing at?” Daenerys demanded and his grin fell.

                “Don’t freak out from what I’m about to do okay? I’m trying to show you something okay?” He said cautiously reaching for the ends of his bed clothes.

                Her face reddened and she leapt to her feet. “If you do not remove your hands from your clothing I will call the guards. Then you won’t even _have_ hands.” She snarled.

                He rolled his eyes but his mind flashed to his dream in which he laid with the woman in front of him. He grimaced at the thought, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but rather because of their shared blood.

                “I have scars from when I was killed. Some are in some quite fatal places.” He said pulling the sheets on top of his lap before pulling his bedclothes off. Daenerys’ eyes widened slightly the red in her cheeks making her skin seem even more pale.

                “Seven Hells woman, I won’t bite, you’re my aunt for gods’ sake.”

                Daenerys pinned him down with her gaze of fire after that and he shrunk back, not wanting to anger her further. She walked closer making sure to be cautious around him. When she got close enough to see she gasped. She sat on the edge of the bed, caution forgotten and reached her hand forward.

                “How…? How did you manage to survive these?” Her hand lingered awkwardly in the air as she didn’t dare to touch him in such a way. “May I?” She asked and her nodded.

                Her fingers brushed over the chunky, short scar right over his heart and his breath caught in his throat. Her fingers found the one in the center of his chest next, and the ones scattered across his lower abdomen, peeking out from beneath the wrappings around his midsection, next. She sat back surprised they hadn’t been a conjurer’s trick of some sort.

                “To answer your question I didn’t survive it. I died and now here I am as good as new. Well almost anyways.”

                Daenerys sat in silence for a few long moments before sighing. “Then at least that part of the story is true then.” She stood from the bed.

                Jon frowned “Daenerys please.” He grasped at anything that could convince her now. “The dragon found me and protected me. I had dreams of the dragons coming as well. The dragon… it spoke to me when it saved me. It spoke to me in my head…” He trailed off realizing how stupid he sounded.

                And then he remembered another something of seemingly little importance. “To bring me back to life the red priestess lit me on fire and I had not a single wound?” He phrased like a question, unsure of himself.

                At this her head spun around and he smiled and sat up straighter. “That… that’s impossible.” She murmured.

                He shrugged and hoped to the old gods and the new that the lack of wounds wasn’t only a onetime thing. Daenerys stared at him for several long moments. Long enough for Jon to become self-conscious under her stare, his eyes flicking around the room trying not to fall victim to her intimidating stare.

                Suddenly she turned around sharply and strode over to the table. Jon jumped at the sudden movement and watch as she picked up the burning candle from the middle of the table and turned back around, her hand cupped over the flame.

                She walked towards him slowly her fingers swirling through the high flame of the candle without injury.

                “My Lady?” Jon murmured quietly and she shook her head at him.

                She sat on the edge of the bed continuing the dance of fingers and flame. She breathed serenely “Fire cannot hurt a dragon Jon Snow. If…” She trailed off a flash of concern and caution burning in her gaze before she schooled her expression. “If you are who you say the flames will not hurt you. If they do hurt you… I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

                Jon opened his mouth to argue, but found he had no viable reason to object to the test, knowing that the only way to convince her of his blood was ironically through fire. His Targaryen Aunt undoubtedly lived up to their house words. So Jon held his breath as she lowered the candle to his chest. He closed his eyes, his heart hammering so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

                He felt the warmth of the flame approaching his skin and he prayed to The Old Gods, the new, R’hllor and just about every other deity he could think of that when it touched his skin it would leave nothing but a tingly warmth behind.

                Daenerys’ soft movements had not prepared him for the follow-through of the test and as she thrust the flame into the pale skin of his chest he flinched expecting to feel it searing into his chest, burning and cauterizing his flesh. Instead he felt nothing more than a curious heat and warm wax sticking to his skin. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked up into his Queen Aunt’s face that showed a mixture of awe and disbelief.

                They sat there like that for a few minutes, the candle now extinguished still pressed into his skin, the wax dripping down his chest and hardening where it fell, her hand pressed gently into his stomach, and the last two Targaryen’s staring at each other in more appraisal than anything else.

                And he finally found enough strength to lay his hands on top of hers, plucking the candle from her hands and taking her hands in his own. Jon’s eyes held a bit of mirth, but more than anything they held relief.

                “Was that enough or should you like to throw me to the dragon’s flames as well before you believe me?”

                She smirked at his words but her head was spinning with confusion. “If you’re offering I assure you I’m sure I can work something out…Nephew.”

                He breathed in relief and shot her a tentative smile. “So you believe me now?”

                “Unfortunately yes.” She smiled a bit before fixing him with a hard stare. “Why are you here Jon?”

                His smile faltered and his eyes fell to their clasped hands. “I…” the words caught in his throat. Why was he here? To become the hero the wall needed? To serve a queen? To serve his mother? No none of that was right.

                Daenerys became unnerved at his silence and her temper flared a bit as she jumped from conclusion to conclusion. “If it’s my crown you want you must know I have means to end your life a thousand times over before I would run out of ideas. Or is it money? I heard you were a bastard before are you looking to up your status? Or perhaps buy an army?”

                Jon’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. “Then what? What is it you want Jon Snow?” She ground out and his eyes flashed, filled with determination.

                “I’m here because I was tired, tired of being alone. I… my family, the siblings I grew up with, the father turned uncle that raised me, the brothers I made at the wall, they’re all dead, missing, or fled. I lived a whole lifetime thinking I was nothing more than a bastard sent to die a cold death on the wall. When I was given another whole lifetime… When I learned who I _truly_ was, I didn’t want to spend this one alone. Not when we all have precious little time before…” He trailed off uncertain.

                “Before what Jon?” Daenerys demanded, not liking the look on her nephew’s face. He sat up quickly without warning and she reeled back, to avoid the clashing of their heads.

                “Death is coming Daenerys Targaryen and it is coming in the form of the undead. It is swift, it is cold, and every time one of us loses to it, it gains a new soldier. The wall will fall without you. The seven kingdoms will be covered in ice and death. Daenerys, without your help to stop the others, I’m afraid there will not be an Iron throne to take.”

                Daenerys stared at him in horror and surprise, folk tales of the “others” swirling through her thoughts. She went to speak but he was not finished. Jon had a funny look on his face somewhere between apprehension and conviction.

                “I… I know I’m not much. I’m a decent swordsman and at least half decent leader. I have a hero complex that causes me to make rash decisions and almost get myself killed, as you can see.” He chucked gesturing to himself and she smiled softly, making his breath catch in his throat in the strangest way. He cleared his throat and continued.  “My manners are lackluster, my charm even less so. But despite all of that, despite all of my flaws I believe myself to be a good man and I dare say a few others would agree.” Fire kissed hair and wild eyes flashed in his mind and he winced.

                “But…” He paused and gazed at her intensely “But if you’ll have me I will guard you as my Liege Lady. I will serve you as my Queen. I will ride into battle in your name and I will stave off the wretched souls that threaten to overrun all we hold dear. I will lay down my claim and gladly watch you ascend to the Iron Throne. But more than any of that…” His gaze left Daenerys and her heart hammered in her chest as she watched this man lay down his all for her.

                “Jon…?” She whispered cautiously to him trying to draw his attention back.

                It seemed to be enough because his eyes flicked back to her and he smiled tentatively. “More than any of that… I will be what we both seem to need. I will be your _family_.” He murmured quietly and her cheeks flushed at the serenity of his voice.

                Her eyes seemed to betray her, filling to the brim with tears and when she blinked the tears streamed down her heated cheeks and fell onto their clasped hands. And suddenly it didn’t matter that he was an unknown factor, that he could mean danger and destruction to her years of planning. It didn’t matter because, she had _family_. Family who had faced death and crossed an ocean to be here. Family who was unknown one day, and a top her balcony the next as if some twist of fate finally decided she deserved some good in her life.  

                Then his arms were encircling her and pulling her into his chest in the most uncomfortable, yet comforting way. And his face was buried in her tresses and her ear was pressed just over his heart, as if to make sure he was alive. His skin, unlike most, was warm to her touch almost the same temperature of her always overheated skin. And as strange as it sounded, neither of them had ever felt so at home in someone’s embrace.

                And so that’s how they fell asleep. A dragon queen nestled between her nephew’s legs, her own bent up under her and their arms crossed across her chest, hands clasped at her stomach, and tears dried to their cheeks. And that’s how Lord Tyrion found them several hours later and with a smirk on his face he turned around and shut the door gently. But the worry niggled at the back of his head as he strode back down the hallway, because another couple birthed of the same blood ties was the last thing in all of Westeros that the Kingdoms would accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay time to dive into the family dynamic which is quickly going to change to that awkward "Wow I have the hots for my Aunt/Nephew. What do I do?" dynamic. Be patient I promise to give you all the Jon/Dany you need to keep you happy! I know you've all waited a long time to have them in the same room together and trust me, I'm using it to the best of my ability without rushing the romance. But hey anyone find that Undertale reference? ;) Lol!   
> Well I hope you all liked the chapter nonetheless, I'm really nervous this won't get good feedback, but hey! You all deserved it after such a long wait. Thank you all so, so much for being patient and always being here when I come back it means everything to me. Thanks as always for reading and I'll see you all next chapter!   
> Much Love,  
> Rin xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> So that’s the first chapter you guys! Tell me what you think and what you didn’t agree with or what you loved. I have a lot planned for this story and though it seems basic at first it will be much better and paced faster a few chapter down the road. Any questions I’ll be happy to answer! Thanks all!  
> Much love,  
> Rin xoxo


End file.
